


A Matter of Life and Death

by bartonfink1974



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26970217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bartonfink1974/pseuds/bartonfink1974
Summary: Harry was supposed to have died after defeating Voldemort, but a clerical error grants him an extra two hours of life; two hours in which something occurs that challenges the very fabric of the universe. Join our hero and heroine as Harry argues his case in a celestial court and fights for his right to remain on Earth with Hermione. Post Book 7; ignores epilogue.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**a/n** This story – **_A Matter of Life and Death_** – is based on the 1946 Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger movie of the same name starring the incomparable David Niven. (For our American friends, please note the movie was called **_“Stairway to Heaven”_** when released in the USA). So not only am I stealing JKR’s wonderful world and characters, I am also shamelessly stealing the genius of Powell and Pressburger and attempting to combine them. Any credit belongs to these three and any shortcomings are obviously entirely mine. The story is a bit of a change in style for me – it’s a piece of fluffy juvenilia to be honest, so if that is not your gig, you might want to give it a miss. As with my other stories, it is available on FFNet under the author name Walter Sobchak.

Just out of interest, it might be worth noting that both JK Rowling and Daniel Radcliffe consider **_“A Matter of Life and Death”_** to be one of their favourite films. If you have not seen it, I would urge you to take the time to view it as I do not think it will disappoint…

WS

**Chapter 1**

_'_ _Good morning…or is it evening? Or is it afternoon perhaps? Oh; it doesn’t matter in the great scheme of things. You see; where I dwell, time is an…irrelevance. My name is Celeste and I am the Chief Recorder. This may not mean anything to you at the moment but as I tell my tale, things ought to become a little clearer. I hope you enjoy the story; I am unused to narrating and I worry that I will not do these events justice. This might be a tricky tale for you to grasp; it is a story of two worlds; one that you know and one that is only in your imagination. It is a story about power; the power of one world against that of the other…_

_Oh; would you listen to me; I digress. It is one of my biggest failings and one that The Boss is often taking me to task about. I had better get to the point; better explain why I am here. First though; I ought to set the scene. I shall do it from my perspective so you will have to imagine…_

_… Imagine if you will, the immense universe. Thousands of galaxies; millions of stars; separated by unfathomable distances travelled by solar rays. It is mostly black; a void; nothing. But here and there, if one looks carefully, the starlight can be discerned amidst the night. There! Can you see it? That light in the distance? It’s a myriad of stars; a galaxy. And right there in the corner; tucked away almost out of sight is a mass of gas no bigger than a pinprick from where we view it. A mass of gas moving at thousands of miles per second that grows larger as we approach…_

_We near it; we can make out other objects now. We can see the planets revolving around the sun. Let’s see now…one, two three…Ah! We are getting there! We are approaching my old home – your current home. A blue orb in the blackness. Isn’t she beautiful? And there is the moon; our moon in its final quarter. And finally we are here; Earth. Our Earth; a blue dot in the night. At first glance it seems small and insignificant. But it is part of the universe; it belongs as part of the whole. The universe would not be the same without it – would not be complete without it - so it is as important as anything else in existence. _

_A reassuring thought, is it not?_

_So we go closer. We skip over the lands currently in daylight and head east to where it is night. We cross the ocean and turn north and pass over the dark fields of Europe; the blackness of the landscape only broken intermittently by the streetlights of the towns and cities. We pass over France – Beloved France! Oh how I miss you! – and we are soon heading over the water; the Channel that takes us to where our tale begins. We are in Britain now, flying north over England; over the border hills and into Scotland. We carry on north, reaching the Highlands and…there it is!_

_A castle; a castle that you will have to imagine because you will never have been able to see it. It is protected from your kind, you see; protected from those without the gift of magic. We approach it; we soar above its turrets and towers, flying out over the lake before circling back and nearing one particular tower. A light can be seen at one of the upper windows; as we get closer we can peer in and we can see three people; three youngsters who have just completed a monumental task. Together they have just destroyed a great darkness. They are talking and it is here that we will join the story. We must listen carefully; listen and learn about power, for it is here that our tale begins…’_

‘…and it’s not as if he hasn’t earned it, Hermione. Give him a break; Kreacher likes having a master,’ said Ron Weasley in exasperation. ‘Harry only wanted a sandwich,’ he added.

Harry Potter elected to say nothing, content to munch on his ham sandwich as he watched his two best friends play out a familiar game. He found it hard to believe that Ron and Hermione had kissed just a couple of hours ago; that they had ended the dance and had finally done something about their unresolved feelings for one another. But as he watched them argue he wondered why they had bothered. He’d heard that opposites attract but he was beginning to think that it was the same attraction that a moth had for a flame. It might seem a good idea at the time but sooner or later, the moth got burned.

‘I wasn’t having a go at Harry!’ exclaimed Hermione Granger. ‘I only asked that Kreacher not call Harry “master.” Is that so wrong?’ she asked, turning to Harry as she did so.

Harry chewed methodically on his sandwich before swallowing. ‘Keep me out of this,’ he finally replied. ‘I’m not going to be a bloody referee between the two of you. I’ve been waiting for you both to sort yourselves out for months but if you’re just going to keep arguing all the time then I wish you hadn’t bothered. At least when you argued before, I didn’t have to watch you snog afterwards.’

Ron smiled but Hermione looked as if she was going to burst into tears. She turned to Ron and caught his grin and her eyes narrowed. Ron decided that perhaps discretion would be the better point of valour.

‘I’ll just go and see mum and dad,’ he said hastily. ‘See how they are doing. See what’s happening with Fred,’ he added gently before turning to leave.

Harry noticed Hermione’s expression soften as she watched Ron depart before she turned her back on him and folded her arms as she looked out of the window. He sighed. _All because I asked Kreacher to make me a sandwich!_ He smiled ruefully, knowing that he had to be careful dealing with elves when Hermione was nearby.

‘I’m sorry, Hermione; I shouldn’t have summoned Kreacher but I was hungry and I…’ He stopped talking abruptly because he suddenly realised that she was crying. ‘Hermione?’ he asked. ‘What’s wrong? Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.’ He put down his plate and approached her slowly, placing his right hand on her shoulder as he reached her. ‘I think I understand, Hermione. It’s ok to cry I suppose; so many of our friends have died.’ He gently turned her to face him and was surprised to discover that she could not look him in the eye.

‘That’s not why I am crying,’ she replied softly. ‘It should be; so many have died and here I am crying like a fool over…’ She stopped abruptly.

‘Over what?’ he asked, but she was not immediately forthcoming with an answer. ‘Over what, Hermione?’ he repeated. ‘You can tell me; you can tell me anything.’ He paused. ‘Is it about Ron? Is it because you argued?’

To his surprise she forced a tremulous smile at these words. ‘If I cried every time I argued with Ron then I would be worse than Moaning Myrtle,’ she replied, shaking her head. She looked directly at him. ‘It’s not about Ron; at least, it’s not directly about him.’

‘So what is it then? You can tell me.’

‘No, I can’t. You wouldn’t understand.’

‘Try me. What are you crying about, Hermione?’ he asked gently.

A seemingly interminable pause ensued before she finally looked at her feet.

‘You,’ she replied in a small voice.

‘What was that?’ he asked having not heard her answer.

‘I said you,’ she repeated, almost defiantly.

Harry was perplexed. ‘Me? What about me?’

She looked at her feet. ‘I thought you were dead, Harry. When Hagrid carried you back to the castle, I thought you were dead.’ Tears flowed freely down her cheeks but she disregarded them. ‘Something inside of me stopped when I saw you. I suddenly realised something. I realised that I had made a huge mistake and that I would pay for it the rest of my life.’

Harry was deeply confused by her words. ‘What mistake?’ he asked gently.

She looked down at her feet. ‘I’m not in love with Ron,’ she replied quietly.

‘So why did you kiss him?’

She took her time to reply. ‘Because I thought I might love him.’ She shrugged ‘I thought we might die too. I didn’t want to die without _knowing._ ’

‘Knowing what?’

Hermione rolled her eyes at his obtuseness. ‘Knowing whether or not I loved him, of course!’ she exclaimed before looking at her feet again.

He smiled in relief. _So that’s what this is about!_ He gently placed his hand under her chin and lifted her head so she was looking into his eyes. ‘Don’t worry about that, Hermione. You’re only eighteen. I’m not surprised you’re not sure about love. You’re still very young for love,’ he added as he tenderly wiped her tears with his thumb.

She gave him what he could only describe as an _odd_ look. ‘I may only be eighteen, Harry,’ she began, a hint of asperity in her tone, ‘but I do know what love is. What I am trying to say is that when I thought you were dead I realised that I wasn’t in love with Ron. I realised this because I thought I had lost you forever…because I am in love with you.’

Harry didn’t react immediately; he found himself unable to process what she had just said. He took a step back and regarded her in astonishment. He opened his mouth to reply but found that nothing came out. He looked at her and it struck him as strange at how she very suddenly seemed to just stand there motionless. His state of mind was such that it took him a few seconds to realise that she actually _was_ motionless.

‘Hermione?’ The concern was deep in his voice as he finally reacted to her immobility. ‘Hermione?’ he repeated, waving his hand frantically in front of her face.

‘She can’t hear you, Harry.’

He nearly jumped out of his skin at hearing the voice. A voice he had heard only a few short hours ago and one he never expected to hear again – at least not in this life. He turned slowly to the source.

‘ _Albus?_ ’ he asked, the incredulity evident in his voice.

Albus Dumbledore smiled in greeting. ‘I am pleased to hear you finally call me by my given name, Harry. It has taken you long enough.’

Harry floundered like a landed fish for a few moments. ‘What the…how the...what the hell are you doing here? You’re dead! And what’s wrong with Hermione?’ he finally managed.

Dumbledore’s smile broadened. ‘I’m still very dead, Harry and – technically - so are you.’ He turned to Hermione. .’She’s fine, Harry. Absolutely fine. She can’t see or hear us for the moment though.’

‘Why not?’ he asked, turning sharply to look upon her. She stood like a statue, frozen in place. He examined her closer, observing how absolutely nothing moved, almost as if she was petrified. He noticed with fascination that even her tears remained fixed upon her cheeks. He turned back to Dumbledore. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he snapped. ‘Fix her!’

‘All in good time, Harry; all in good time.’ He smiled again, almost as if enjoying some private joke. ‘In fact,’ he continued,’ that is a perfect way of putting it. You see, at the moment we are standing outside of time.’

‘Outside of time,’ he repeated flatly.

‘Yes,’ replied Dumbledore. ‘Everyone else in the universe is frozen in a moment of time. After all, when you really think about it; what is time?’ he looked whimsical for a second or two, his eyes twinkling brightly before he closed them.

“But at my back I always hear, Time's winged chariot hurrying near,  
And yonder all before us lie  
Deserts of vast eternity.”

Harry decided that he had gone mad. That Voldemort’s final curse had unhinged him completely.

‘ _What?’_

‘It’s a poem, Harry. Part of a poem dealing with time and love by a very clever chap called Andrew Marvell. You’ll maybe meet him soon. A lovely fellow. But I digress,’ he added. ‘The point I am trying to make is that time has no meaning where we are right now.’

‘Time has no meaning in Hogwarts? Since when?’ he asked, aware of the irony in the question.

‘Technically we are not in Hogwarts. You see; for everyone else, time has stopped. The whole universe has ceased to turn so that we can have this conversation. When it is over things will return to normal.’

‘Won’t people notice?’ he asked sceptically.

‘Why would they notice? We are between moments. When we are done the next moment will follow on for everyone as if there were no gap.’

Harry struggled to get his head round this and found that he was beginning to get a bit of a headache.

‘Why are you here? I thought you were going “on”?’

‘I did go on. I reached the Other World. But I had to come back.’

‘The Other World? Is that Heaven?’ asked Harry, deeply curious.

‘We prefer not to call it that, Harry. It is known as the Other World.’

Harry considered this for a few seconds before dismissing it as irrelevant. Something else was bothering him.

‘You said I was technically dead,’ he said.

‘Ah!’ exclaimed Dumbledore, clicking his fingers. ‘Thank you, Harry. Thank you for steering us back on track. That is why I am here. Come! Sit down and I will explain,’ he added as he gestured towards the bed. Harry took his time before complying, realising that to obey would be to accept this madness. He glanced once again at Hermione and felt a sudden flush as he considered what she had just said to him. _That at least was real_. Sighing, he decided that this was just another weird event – one in a long line of weird things that had been his lot in life. He strode across the room and flopped onto the bed. He sat and stared stonily at his former headmaster. Dumbledore ignored the rebuke in his eyes.

‘You remember our recent conversation, Harry?’ he asked.

‘Of course I do. I am unlikely to forget it,’ he snapped.

‘In that case, you will remember that you were given a choice. You had the option of “going on” or of returning to Earth and defeating Voldemort.’

‘I know.’

‘However,’ continued Albus, ‘I forgot to mention something to you. An unforgivable oversight as it happens. An oversight that I have been sent here to rectify.’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘What did you fail to tell me this time?’ he asked, more than a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Dumbledore took his time before replying. ‘I forgot to tell you that you were only to be given enough time to defeat Voldemort. That once you had done so you were to return to King’s Cross and finally go on.’

A long silence greeted this revelation. A million thoughts flew across Harry’s mind as he struggled to deal with what he had heard. Finally, he managed to articulate one of them.

‘So, why didn’t you arrive after I killed him? That was over two hours ago. Why not then?’

Dumbledore sighed. ‘I am afraid there has been a bit of a mix-up. I never realised that it was my responsibility to collect you – I thought that a chap named Celeste would be fetching you. He’s a Recorder; he deals with the bookkeeping. Unfortunately, Celeste was under the impression that I would be performing the duty of collecting you and so neither of us bothered. An unfortunate oversight, but thankfully one that is easily fixed.’

‘What do you mean “easily fixed”?' snarled Harry, rising to his feet. He felt a sudden urge to attack Dumbledore and was reminded of his feelings back in fifth year when he’d wanted to do the same. On that occasion Voldemort had possessed him; this time the desire to set about the headmaster was all his own idea.

‘It is easily fixed because I am here to take you with me. You are dead, Harry. You have been on borrowed time these past two hours. It’s time to go.’

‘I’m going nowhere! If you had told me this at King’s Cross I might have went “on” there and then. I’m buggered if I’m going to quietly come along now just to fix _your_ cock-up!’

Dumbledore sighed. ‘You would not have me use force, Harry?’

‘You could try!’ snapped Harry, adopting a fighting posture. ‘I took care of old Tom for you; I fancy my chances now.’

Surprisingly Dumbledore laughed. ‘Why are you making this so difficult? We all must die. You had accepted this; you had resigned yourself to dying in the forest, after all.’

‘Because something has happened. Something happened in my _borrowed_ two hours. I’m not leaving.’

‘What happened?’ asked Dumbledore.

‘Hermione told me that she is in love with me,’ he replied flatly. ‘This changes everything. Two hours ago I was willing to die. Not now.’

Dumbledore smiled broadly. ‘Miss Granger declared her love for you?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘And do you love her?’

A pause. ‘Yes.’

‘’Excellent!’ exclaimed Dumbledore. ‘This is good news.’ His expression suddenly became sober for a moment as he considered something. ‘Oh dear,’ he finally said.

‘”Oh dear” what?’ asked Harry with a feeling of foreboding.

‘The Boss isn’t going to like this,’ replied Dumbledore. ‘This is going to cause a few problems. The Boss will insist you come with me.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ repeated Harry. ‘You tell The Boss! You tell him that…’

‘Her,’ said Dumbledore.

Harry looked confused. ‘”Her” what?’

‘You want me to tell her. Not him.’

Harry’s mouth fell open. ‘The Boss up there is a woman?’ he asked incredulously.

Dumbledore laughed heartily. ‘Of course she’s a woman, Harry! She’s omnipotent! How many men have you met with the ability to multitask?’

Harry considered the point for a moment then shrugged. It was a fair observation. ‘OK then; you tell _her_ that I’m not going anywhere. Things have changed. It may have been borrowed time but it was borrowed because _you_ cocked up! And in that time I have fallen in love and Hermione has told me that she loves me. I’m not leaving her now. Not after this. It could destroy her.’

‘Your concern does you credit, Harry but you have no room for manoeuvre here. The Boss is a stickler for The Law. It is the power of Law that guides the universe. Would you stand against that power?’

‘I would,’ Harry replied without hesitation. ‘It’s not the power that guides _my_ universe.’ He glanced at Hermione. ‘Not any more.’

Dumbledore regarded him for a long, long moment and his eyes twinkled more than Harry had ever seen them which was quite an achievement considering the man was dead. ‘You never cease to amaze me, Harry. You really are the most remarkable person I have ever met. I will see what I can do – I suppose a little bit more time can’t hurt. I shall return to the Other World and see what can be done.’ He pointed a finger at Hermione. ‘Just don’t fall any deeper in love with her,’ he said with a smile.

Harry finally smiled in return. ‘Impossible,’ he replied. He watched as Dumbledore gave him one last smile before disappearing.

Then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

***********

Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,

My staff of faith to walk upon,

My scrip of joy, immortal diet,

My bottle of salvation,

My gown of glory, hope’s true gauge,

And thus, I’ll make my pilgrimage.

Sir Walter Raleigh

***********

Remus Lupin was confused. He was also dead but this was not what was confusing him. What was causing him such bafflement was the fact that he had been waiting for some time for Harry to arrive but as yet there was no sign of his friend’s son. He had sat patiently on a bench in what could only be described as a vast waiting room and watched with interest as a multitude of people had passed through one by one, each giving their name to a - for want of a better word - clerk who ticked them off on a list as they passed. He had been struck by the variety of cultures and nationalities that passed through and had even recognised one or two faces that had recently fought in the battle for Hogwarts.

But there had been no sign of Harry.

‘C’mon, Moony,’ said Tonks, more than a hint of impatience in her voice. ‘We must have missed him. He probably passed through hours ago. I’m getting bored sitting here.’ She sighed. ‘Whenever I considered what I might experience if I ever reached this place, boredom didn’t appear on my list. Besides,’ she added, playing her final card, ‘we will be able to keep an eye on Teddy once we go through.’

Lupin turned to her and smiled. ‘I know,’ he replied, ‘but it shouldn’t be too much longer. It has been a while since Harry walked into the forest. He’s probably been held up in the crowd. We’ll see Teddy soon.’

It was strange, but since arriving here he had been filled with the certainty that Teddy was going to be fine. It was a weird feeling; he had not been a father for long but had bonded fully with his son. It was the only thing he regretted about his death; that he wouldn’t be there for his child when he was growing up. But something inside of him told him that everything would be OK; that he would be able to watch Teddy live his life from here and that he would be reunited with him again. He knew that Tonks had experienced the same feeling and it was uncanny to consider how this place made one feel so at ease.

He glanced up to the desk as his attention was caught by the arrival of another “clerk” and it was apparent that some kind of shift change was going on. He noticed with curiosity that the new arrival had a pair of wings and he wondered at that; he had seen no one else similarly bedecked. He sighed. _Just what I need right now; more bloody bureaucracy!_ He decided to take a more pro-active role in discovering the whereabouts of Harry and stood up before making his way towards the desk. When he arrived, it became apparent that some kind of argument was going on.

‘For goodness sake, Celeste!’ exclaimed the taller of the two clerks. ‘It was your responsibility! You never leave something like this to another; especially to someone who has a personal involvement.’

The clerk called Celeste merely shrugged in a very Gallic manner, his wings rising and falling with his shoulders. ‘I had merely assumed that the deceased would have been collected by the one who was sent to grant the extension. I will speak to Dumbledore as soon as he gets here.’

‘Dumbledore?’ asked Lupin, suddenly interested. ‘You know Dumbledore?’

Both clerks turned to regard him. The one without the wings consulted his list. ‘You are Remus Lupin?’

Lupin didn’t bother to wonder how he knew. He supposed they knew everything here. ‘Yes. Now why are you talking about Dumbledore?’

The tall clerk considered the question before indicating with a nod towards the other. ‘Celeste here was supposed to collect someone but thought that Dumbledore was to perform the duty. Unfortunately, Dumbledore left it to Celeste. A most unfortunate error, Celeste! You should have come to me immediately! Your inexperience has found you out.’

‘I am sincerely sorry. I was not thinking straight. I lost my head.’

‘You haven’t been doing this for long?’ asked Lupin, amused.

‘No; not long. I have only been here since I joined in the so-called Second Germinal of the so-called glorious French Revolution.’

‘I see,’ replied Lupin. ‘Did you die a natural death then?’

Celeste shrugged. ‘As I said; I lost my head.’

Lupin laughed outright at this remark. He was curious about something else though. ‘Why the wings?’ he asked. ‘I haven’t seen anyone else wear them.’

Celeste slapped his forehead with his hand. ‘Forgive me!’ he replied. ‘I forgot I was still wearing them,’ he added as he waved his hand and made them disappear.

‘So why did you have them on in the first place?’

Celeste smiled. ‘I was visiting some Catholics.* They have certain preconceived notions as to what this place should be like. The Boss says we should indulge them.’

Lupin smiled broadly at the explanation, then laughed loudly once again. ‘Tell me,’ he said, once he had recovered his composure. ‘This person you were supposed to collect? It wouldn’t be Harry Potter, would it?’

Both men turned on him. ‘How do you know that?’ asked Celeste.

It was Lupin’s turn to shrug. ‘I have been waiting for him. He was due some time ago, I think, but I haven’t seen him yet. Now I know why.’

Celeste made to reply but his attention was distracted by the arrival of Albus Dumbledore who approached the group, a beaming smile on his face.

‘My dear Remus!’ he exclaimed. ‘How good it is to see you again. And you too Nymphadora,’ he added as Tonks’ curiosity finally got the better of her and she made her way over to join the discussion. She winced.

‘I thought that bloody name would have remained on Earth.’

Lupin smiled but turned as Celeste spoke. ‘Did you get him?’ he asked, looking around the vast room. ‘Where is he?’

Dumbledore’s look sobered but Lupin could detect a twinkle in his eye. ‘I am afraid there has been a complication.’

‘A complication?’ asked both clerks simultaneously. 

‘Yes. Mr Potter refuses to co-operate. He says we have made a mistake.’

‘A mistake?’ said the tall clerk. ‘Impossible! There has been no mistake made here for thousands of years!’

‘So, mistakes do happen then?’ asked Lupin. ‘It’s not impossible?’

The clerks looked uncomfortable. ‘Sometimes,’ the taller one replied. ‘But no mistake has been made in this instance. Mr Potter actually benefited. He was granted an extra two hours. He should be grateful.’

‘He is,’ replied Dumbledore. ‘But something has occurred.’

‘What?’ asked Celeste.

‘He has fallen in love.’

Celeste closed his eyes for a moment. ‘This does indeed complicate things. The Boss is not going to be very impressed by this. She will already know, of course.’

‘This does not matter!’ exclaimed the tall clerk. ‘Mr Potter’s time is up. He must leave Earth. By force if necessary!’

‘He refuses,’ replied Dumbledore. ‘He will resist all attempts to remove him.’

‘He cannot refuse! This is The Law! There is no power greater than The Law!’

‘Is the Law so callous that it would claim Harry just as he has discovered love?’ asked Dumbledore. ‘He says that in the extra time mistakenly allotted to him a young woman has told him that she loves him. He returns this love. This would not have happened had it not been for our mistake. Can we in good conscience punish them both for this?’

‘Who is it, Albus?’ asked Lupin. ‘The young woman I mean.’

Albus smiled. ‘It is Miss Granger,’ he replied.

Tonks squealed. ‘Excellent! I knew they were made for each other. I’m so pleased for them!’

‘I am afraid that your joy will be short lived, madam,’ said Celeste. ‘As will Mr Potter’s and Miss Granger’s. He must leave Earth.’

A sudden thought occurred to Lupin at that point. ‘You say that there is no power greater than The Law?’ he asked.

‘That is correct.’

‘Then surely The Law must allow for such an eventuality? Surely Harry has the right of appeal? Or is it tyrannical law that we are dealing with?’

A long silence greeted this question. Finally, Celeste answered. ‘I believe Mr Lupin may be correct. I believe The Boss will grant such an appeal. I shall endeavour to find out.’

‘Is it possible?’ asked Tonks.

Celeste regarded her with a smile. ‘Madame; this is the Other World. _Anything_ is possible,’ he replied.

***********

Hermione sat at the side of Harry’s hospital bed and worried as Madame Pomfrey conducted a scan with her wand. Ron sat next to her and Minerva McGonagall stood over the bed but no one had spoken since they had arrived. No one seemed to know what was wrong with him and the lack of information was deeply disconcerting. The hospital wing was still crowded; still contained a number of those wounded in the battle but Harry had been placed in his usual bed before the curtains were hastily closed around him.

She’d been unable to react at first. She’d just told him that she loved him when he had suddenly collapsed in front of her. She hadn’t known what to think; one moment they had been talking, the next he was lying unconscious on the floor. She’d thought that he’d perhaps fainted but after a few seconds of trying unsuccessfully to wake him she quickly realised that it was something more serious. The only problem was, no one seemed to know what it was. Finally, Poppy finished her scan and looked at Minerva gravely.

‘I cannot find anything wrong with him. My best guess is that there may be something wrong with his head,’ she said quietly.

‘What?’ asked Hermione. ‘What could be wrong with his head?’

Poppy regarded her solemnly. ‘I think he may have sustained some kind of brain injury. This is just a guess, however. There are no outward symptoms.’

Hermione was appalled. ‘But he never hurt his head!’ she exclaimed. ‘He wasn’t hit on his head!’

Poppy shrugged. ‘It might not be a recent injury, Hermione. Or it might be as a result of his clash with Voldemort. It’s too early to tell. I’m sorry.’

Hermione looked at her hands, fighting the tears. ‘No; I’m sorry. I know you are doing your best.’ She did not see Poppy and Minerva exchange a look.

‘I must go and see to the others,’ said Poppy. ‘Will you keep an eye on him for me?’ she asked.

Hermione nodded. ‘Of course. I’m not going anywhere.’ She didn’t look up as Poppy and Minerva removed themselves and she was oblivious when Ron moved form his seat to crouch beside her.

‘He’ll be fine, Hermione,’ he said as he gently began to rub her back. ‘He always is.’

She stiffened at his touch and immediately stood, not seeing the distress on his face as she did so. She leaned over Harry and gently stroked his hair, ignoring Ron completely.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ asked Ron, a hint of anger in his voice. She turned on him in fury.

‘What do you think is the matter? Harry’s sick!’ she exclaimed. She was about to launch into a withering attack when she was distracted by a low murmur.

‘Hermione?’

She turned, quick as a flash to see Harry slowly blink open his eyes. ‘Oh, Harry!’ she cried before smothering him with a hug. After a few moments she realised that she might be causing him discomfort and reluctantly released him. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked, not realising that Ron had slipped away to fetch Poppy and Minerva.

Harry considered the question. ‘Very well,’ he replied. He looked up as the curtains were parted and Poppy, Minerva and Ron appeared.

‘Mr Potter,’ began Poppy sternly. ‘We should be naming this wing after you considering the number of times you have been here. How are you feeling?’

‘I just told Hermione. I’m fine,’ he replied.

‘Can you remember what happened?’ Poppy asked. Hermione flushed as his eyes fell on her for a moment and she knew he remembered some things anyway.

‘Yes, but it’s hard to explain.’

‘Try us,’ said Minerva.

Harry paused. ‘I saw Albus,’ he finally replied. The reaction to these words was predictable; a stunned silence.

‘Harry,’ began Hermione, carefully. ‘Albus is dead.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘I know that, Hermione. But I’m supposed to be dead too. He told me that he had come to collect me; that I was supposed to have died when I destroyed Voldemort. There was a cock-up in the Other World; they forgot to collect me.’

Silence.

‘I know you don’t believe me,’ he continued, ‘but it’s true.’

‘When did you speak to Albus?’ asked Hermione. ‘When you were unconscious?’

‘I was unconscious?’ he asked in surprise. ‘Is that why I am here?’

The four people round his bed shared a look. ‘Harry; Albus wasn’t here. No one else saw him.’

‘He _was_ here, Hermione. He froze time to speak to me – or at least; time was frozen. It was…weird. One minute we were talking and then the next you were like a statue.’ He frowned. ‘I could smell some treacle tart too for some reason.’ He shook his head. ‘Anyway; you were standing as if petrified while we discussed things. Albus told me that the entire universe had been stopped. That we were frozen in a moment in time.’

Hermione felt the alarm grow within her but she decided to pretend everything was normal. ‘What did you discuss?’ she tentatively asked.

‘My death. Like I said; he told me he was there to collect me. That I had been living on borrowed time.’ He looked directly at her. ‘He told me that I received an extra two hours by mistake and that I was to go with him.’

She considered his words carefully. ‘So, what did you say to him?’ she finally asked.

‘I refused to go.’

‘And he accepted this?’ she asked.

‘He did for the moment.’

‘Why?’

He cast a quick glance at Ron before turning back to her and replying. ‘Because I told him that I had fallen in love. That I had just discovered that someone loved me and that I returned that love. As this had happened in the time granted to me as a result of _their_ cock-up; I said that I wasn’t going anywhere. It wouldn’t be fair to take me away when something so profound had happened in my extra time.’

A long silence greeted these words. Hermione fought back the tears as she realised the implications of what he had said. While his story about Albus seemed fantastic she recognised the one simple truth he had uttered.

_Harry loves me!_

She reached for his hand, giving it a soft squeeze before opening her mouth to reply. She was beaten to the punch by Ron.

‘Mate? This is mental. Absolutely mental.’

‘I know. But it is true. Every part of it is true.’

Ron considered this. ‘So, who do you love?’ he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. His scepticism was obvious.

Harry stared straight at him. ‘Hermione,’ he replied.

Ron looked even more amused. ‘Hermione?’ he asked. ‘Now we know for sure that it’s all mental. You don’t love Hermione.’

‘Yes, I do. I love her more than life itself. I have always loved her.’

Ron started to look angry. ‘This is bollocks, Harry. I know you are not well but this is going too far. You love Ginny! You told me that you only loved Hermione like a sister!’ he said accusingly.

‘I lied.’

‘WHAT?’ Why would you lie?’

‘Because I thought I was going to die. Because I thought she loved you and I knew you loved her. That’s why I lied.’

Ron was speechless for a moment before something occurred to him. ‘Wait a minute,’ he began. ‘This is nonsense; total nonsense and I can prove it. You said that you had discovered that someone loves you. Hermione doesn’t love you; she loves me.’

Hermione was immediately aware that all eyes turned to her. All save for Harry who never took his eyes off Ron. She turned to face her red-haired friend. 

‘Well?’ asked Ron.

‘It’s true, Ron,’ she replied. She noticed him smile triumphantly and realised he had failed to understand. ‘It’s true that I’m in love with Harry,’ she added softly.

Ron stood looking at her for a few moments, his face like thunder. He cast his eyes over Poppy and Minerva, witnesses to his humiliation. He turned back to Hermione and the pain and contempt in his eyes wounded her deeply. Then he turned to Harry.

‘It’s always about you, isn’t it? You get to have everything,’ he said bitterly before turning on his heels and storming away, the curtain billowing as be passed.

Hermione felt the tears begin to fall for her friend but felt a sudden reassuring grip on her hand. She turned to see Harry looking on her with such love that her heart felt as if it was going to burst.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered.

***********

Remus Lupin smiled brightly but inwardly he cursed as he gripped tightly on his wife’s hand. ‘The sods!’ he hissed under his breath as he approached his friends – friends he had not seen in some time.

He and Tonks had eventually left the waiting room and had accompanied Albus through the great double doors that led into the heart of these halls. He’d hardly taken a moment to appreciate the scale and splendour of his surroundings when a great cheer had rent the air. When he turned, confused, his eyes fell on a small gathering of familiar faces. James and Lily stood clapping and cheering while Sirius had his fingers in his mouth and was letting forth an ear-piercing whistle that he reckoned might be heard back on Earth. He recognised Tonks’ father and spotted a few more familiar faces – Fred Weasley and Mad Eye being the most prominent among them. He’d flushed, not expecting a welcoming committee, before making his way towards them.

‘Moony!’ exclaimed James who enveloped him in a huge bear hug. Despite his embarrassment, Lupin held tight to his dear friend who he had missed so much over the years. Finally, he let go and turned to Lily who also gave him a huge hug. When they broke apart, he looked up and cast his eyes on Sirius, who looked stern.

‘Don’t expect anything from me, old friend. I’m part dog, remember, and we all know how they like to greet their friends.’ He held an aloof posture for a moment before finally breaking into a grin. ‘It’s good to see you again. Really good,’ he added as he hugged his friend.

Remus was overwhelmed at seeing those he loved again and realised he had never felt happier in his entire…well; death, he supposed. Sirius seemed to sense his feelings.

‘Don’t think this was all set up for you,’ he began with a mischievous grin. We were expecting Harry but we understand that he has been somewhat delayed?’

‘You know about Harry?’ asked Remus in surprise.

‘Oh, yes; we know,’ replied Lily. ‘You’ll find out son enough that a secret doesn’t remain a secret for long here. We noticed a lot of the clerks running hither and thither so Sirius here,’ she indicated to him with a jerk of her thumb, ‘accosted one of the prettier ones and asked what all the fuss was about. He charmed the secret out of her. He’s a silver-tongued devil, that one.’ 

Sirius sketched a mock bow at her words.

‘So, you know that Harry has refused to co-operate?’ asked Remus.

‘Yeah,’ replied Fred Weasley with a laugh. ‘Trust Harry; too bloody stubborn to die!’ There was more than a hint of admiration in his tone. ‘He’s got the knickers of these clerks in a twist anyway. No one seems to know what’s going to happen. Good old Harry,’ he added, evidently pleased at such a fine prank.

Remus laughed loudly, the image of angels with a celestial wedgie stark in his mind. He turned to James. ‘He must get that stubborn streak from you. It will get him into trouble one of these days.’

James laughed and made to reply but his attention was diverted by the arrival of Celeste who looked like a man that had just lost a sickle but found a Galleon. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘The Boss has agreed! Harry is to have his appeal!’ he exclaimed.

Silence greeted these words for a few seconds before everyone began to cheer. Celeste turned to Dumbledore.

‘We have to fetch him, you and I. We cocked this up together so The Boss says we are to fix it together.’

‘You’ve to bring him here?’ asked Lily, her eyes shining.

Celeste turned to her. ‘Yes, dear lady. We are to bring him here. If he is successful, he will be allowed to return. If not?’ He shrugged, leaving the rest unsaid.

Lily turned to her husband, bouncing with excitement as she did so. ‘Oh, James!’ she exclaimed. ‘We’re going to see our little boy!’

James Potter didn’t reply. Instead he smiled broadly and enveloped his wife in a hug.

_Harry was coming here!_

***********

*a/n A couple of things…one; I’m not having a go at Catholics (I am one!) so if anyone takes offence; tough!

Also, I’m not trying to be pretentious by quoting these poems – they all appear in the film so it’s just my little homage to that fine piece of work.

Cheers

BF


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione tried to hide her unease as she led Harry by the hand through the shattered corridors of Hogwarts towards the Headmistress’ office. Her eyes took in the destruction all around her but her mind was not concerned with the damage to the school; rather it was pre-occupied with what had just occurred in the hospital wing. There was almost too much to take in.

She was still trying to come to terms with the fact that Harry had told her that he loved her. She had thought never to hear him say such words and as a result she was struggling to process what his declaration would mean for them all. She had always liked him; had been attracted to him for as long as she could remember but it was not until she saw what she thought was his dead body being carried by Hagrid that she finally understood exactly what he meant to her.

_He meant everything._

At first, she had refused to believe the evidence of her own eyes; had shaken her head at his still form and in that moment, she felt a part of herself take flight, never to return. Her relief and joy at his “resurrection” almost overwhelmed her but this elation had been short lived. She had realised that there were unresolved issues between them; that unless these issues were dealt with, their friendship might be destroyed forever.

And then, of course, there was Ron.

His reaction had been predictable. She had been about to give him a piece of her mind for speaking of her as if she were a possession of his but he had thwarted her by storming off after a few barbed remarks directed at Harry. She closed her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Ron, but she now knew that he was not the one for her. She had flirted with the idea of Ron; had tormented herself for nearly two years over him and had almost let her selfishness destroy her friendship with Harry. She realised that she had been settling; that she had never expected Harry to return her feelings and so had settled for the next best thing; her other friend.

She grimaced, knowing that she must never – ever – say to Ron that he was the “next best thing.” That was the problem, she knew; Ron’s inferiority complex – his need to always prove himself better than his friends - would have prevented them from ever having a lasting relationship. There was no doubt that he was a good person but she had seen a side to him these past few years that made her wonder. He hadn’t stuck by Harry in fourth year and had walked out on them again during the Horcrux hunt. Harry had made light of it but she knew – deep down – that she would never forgive him for storming off.

She smiled ruefully; thinking of all those nights in the tent when she had cried over him. Except, it had not just been Ron she was crying about. She had also shed tears for Harry; for his complete lack of response to her distress. She knew that she would have to speak to him about it; would have to ask him why he had ignored her tears.

She had _a lot_ to speak to him about, she knew. The problem was that they did not have the time at the moment – there were more pressing matters to deal with. She realised with grim amusement that when dealing with Harry there were _always_ more pressing matters to deal with.

But that was the _other_ thing churning away in her head. His absolutely fantastical story about his death; about freezing time and about Dumbledore coming back to collect him. In almost any other circumstances – indeed; if it had been anyone else – she would have dismissed such a tale out of hand. But it was _Harry_ and she had learned a long time ago that nothing was too improbable when dealing with him. There was also the simple fact that he seemed so certain about everything. She could recognise the truth in his eyes when he spoke and she didn’t know what scared her most; the possibility that he was right or the chance that he might be wrong. For if he was right then he was in yet another battle for his life. If he was wrong then they were dealing with some _very_ serious mental issues. Whether or not events transpired as he had related was the least of her concerns; to Harry they were real enough and that was all that mattered.

This was why she had suggested speaking to Dumbledore’s portrait. This particular conundrum was so far beyond her knowledge and experience that for once in her life she was intellectually out of her depth. When she had suggested visiting Dumbledore Harry had not demurred; in fact, he had looked faintly amused, almost as if he had known what she was going to propose. She supposed she should be used to that by now; used to the fact that Harry knew her so well, just as she knew him better than he knew himself.

She picked her way through the ruined statues that lay strewn across the corridor and began to climb the stairs. She gave his hand a quick squeeze of reassurance as she climbed before finally opening the door at the top of the stairs.

‘Ah! Miss Granger; Mr Potter. I have been expecting you,’ said the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

‘You have?’ she asked, surprised. ‘You know why we are here?’

Dumbledore laughed. ‘Yes; but not for any supernatural reason. Minerva has already visited me and has related to me everything that Harry told her. Quite a story!’

‘So, you don’t think it’s real?’ asked Hermione. ‘You think it is all happening inside his head?’

She saw that Dumbledore smiled at the remark but didn’t see Harry also smile behind her.

‘Of course it is happening inside his head, but why on Earth should that mean that it is not real?’ replied Dumbledore. Harry laughed.

‘Something amuses you, Harry?’ asked Dumbledore.

‘It’s just that this is the second time I have heard you say that today.’

‘Really?’ asked Albus. ‘In that case I must get myself some new material. I don’t wish to be considered boring.’

‘So, what does that mean, Headmaster?’ asked Hermione, determined to keep them on topic. ‘Are you saying that there is something wrong with Harry’s mind? That it is…weak in some way?’

Dumbledore regarded her solemnly for a few seconds. ‘My dear girl; you have learned so much and yet you have so much still to learn. Harry has an excellent mind. What you must realise is that a weak mind isn’t strong enough to hurt itself. Stupidity has saved many a man from going mad.’

Hermione considered these words. ‘So, you think he is mad?’

Dumbledore laughed heartily. ‘Do you?’

‘Of course not!’ she exclaimed.

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Harry dryly. ‘So, what do you think is going on then, sir?’

‘I think, Harry, that you are telling the truth. I think that it is entirely possible that everything happened as you say it did – whether the events are in your mind or otherwise. I also think that you will have another…encounter soon enough. It will happen again.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ asked Hermione.

‘Because the issue remains unresolved. From what Minerva tells me, I returned to take Harry with me to the “Other World.” Harry refused and I departed to see what could be done. I have no doubt that Harry will be contacted again in due course. No doubt he will be alerted by the smell of treacle tart once again.’

‘Yeah! What’s all that about?’ asked Harry.

‘I do not know for sure, Harry. It could mean a number of things. It could be some derangement in your mind or it could be a brief foretaste of the Other World.’

‘You think they have treacle tart in the Other World?’ asked Harry.

‘Why wouldn’t they?’ replied Dumbledore. ‘It is a heavenly delight, is it not?’

Harry smiled at the question. ‘So, what do I do now?’ he asked.

‘I would suggest preparing an argument for remaining here,’ replied Dumbledore.

‘I already have my argument,’ Harry replied.

‘And that is?’ asked Dumbledore.

‘It’s standing right next to me,’ said Harry as he squeezed Hermione’s hand.

Dumbledore beamed at them both. ‘Excellent! Quite excellent! I am happy for you both.’

Hermione blushed at the remark but ploughed on with the issue at hand. ‘Is there nothing else we can do?’

‘I’m afraid not, Miss Granger. Only Harry can influence how this will pan out. What you must do is give him the reason to carry on here.’

‘I can do that,’ she said, turning to Harry. ‘Oh, I can do that all right,’ she added softly. She turned back to Dumbledore. ‘Harry doesn’t have to do this by himself.’

**********

Ron Weasley sat on the stairs outside the Great Hall and drew circles in the dust as he stared morosely at the ground. The events of the past 24 hours had deeply affected him and he was struggling to come to terms with everything that had occurred. What had affected him the most was – of course – the death of Fred and he kept pushing thoughts of his brother into the recesses of his mind. He knew there would be a reckoning of grief to come but he was not willing to face that reckoning just yet. Instead, he harboured his own sense of injustice to push the darker thoughts of his brother to one side.

_And it is an injustice!_ He thought to himself. _Hermione is supposed to be mine!_

He couldn’t understand it. He had thought he had finally achieved what he wanted when Hermione had kissed him at the climax of the battle. He’d always had his doubts; had always felt that she preferred Harry and it was not until Harry and Ginny had gotten together last year that he had finally believed he’d had a chance. Not even abandoning Harry and Hermione on the Horcrux hunt had seemed to make a difference. While Hermione had been enraged, her reaction to him during the battle had finally put his mind at ease. He had finally won.

And then everything changed. He didn’t know what was going on with Harry at the minute. He thought he would have been able to ignore Harry’s declaration of love for Hermione because it was obvious something was affecting his mind; that something more serious was going on. The “appearance” of Dumbledore and the idea that Harry should be dead would have been the real cause for concern, were it not for the fact that Hermione had declared her love for Harry. He didn’t know what game was being played at the moment, but he knew he had ended up on the losing side.

_Bloody typical!_

He heard footsteps approaching but was not minded seeing who it was; he just wanted to be left alone to wallow in his misery and resentment.

‘Hello, Ronald. That looks like fun; do you mind if I join you?’

Ron glanced up and watched as Luna – without waiting for a response to her question – sat down next to him on the stairs and began doodling in the dust. His initial resentment at her intrusion dissipated as he watched her sketch. It was impossible to harbour ill-feeling towards Luna.

‘No; I don’t mind. But I don’t think I’ll be much company for you.’

‘That’s OK, Ronald. I’ll be good enough company for both of us,’ Luna replied. She paused for a moment, as if considering something. ‘I was sorry to hear about your brother. I know what it is to lose someone you love. Is that why you think you will be poor company?’

Ron started at her bluntness but after a moment and despite everything that had happened, he found himself smiling at her disarming manner. ‘Not just that,’ he finally managed to say. ‘It’s not just Fred, although he is the main part of it.’

Luna nodded her understanding and Ron found himself getting lost in her eyes. There was wisdom present in her that he had not fully appreciated before now. He knew Harry had always thought there was more to “Loony” than met the eye, but this was the first time he had noticed it.

‘I heard about Harry,’ Luna finally said. ‘I heard he had collapsed? Is he OK? Is that what else is bothering you?’

Ron grimaced. ‘Sort of,’ he replied. ‘I think he’s OK – he’s awake anyway, so I think he’s fine.’ He had tried to sound nonchalant as he said this but his voice was more than a little strained. He noticed that Luna was looking at him with a very shrewd look on her face. Somehow, he knew what was coming next.

‘Where is Hermione?’

Ron closed his eyes. ‘With Harry.’

‘Ah.’

Ron never knew that so much meaning could be imparted into one syllable. He waited for Luna to elaborate with a patience that was unusual for him and he was not disappointed.

‘Ronald? Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?’

‘I guess not. Fire away.’

‘What is it about Hermione that you are attracted to?’

Ron felt as if he had been smacked in the head. He felt ambushed; of all the things he thought she might ask him, that question had not occurred to him.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ he finally stammered.

‘No, Ronald; it isn’t. I know why Harry is attracted to her but I’ve never really worked out what you like about her.’

‘You have spoken to Harry about this?’ he asked with more than a hint of reproach in his voice.

‘Of course, I haven’t spoken to Harry about it, Ronald.’ She saw his confusion. ‘You don’t have to speak to Harry to know. It’s in the way he talks to her; the way he listens to her; the way he accepts her for who she is. The signs are all there if you know where to look,’ she added.

‘They are?’

‘Yes. But I don’t see that with you, Ronald. The signs aren’t there and I wonder what it is about Hermione that you’re really attracted to? Is it her or is it merely the idea of her being your girlfriend?’

‘The idea of her being my girlfriend? What are you talking about, Luna?’

Luna sighed. ‘I’m only saying this to you because I like you so much.’ She paused for a moment and looked directly into his eyes. ‘Has it ever occurred to you that the thing that attracts you to Hermione is the fact that if she chooses you then she doesn’t choose Harry?’

‘WHAT?!?’

‘Think about it, Ronald. I know you love Harry but I also know you feel overshadowed by him. I just wish you would realise that you don’t need to beat Harry in order to validate yourself. Love isn’t a competition; stop measuring yourself in this way. You are your own man, Ronald, and you are a man worth knowing,’ she added. ‘I wish you could see what I do.’

With these words, Luna stood and continued down the stairs as if nothing had occurred. Only when she reached the bottom did she turn.

‘Think about it, Ronald.’

Ron felt a surge of fury at her presumption but as he watched her go, he found that he could not sustain it. He could not believe that she had spoken to him so directly and he was still taken aback.

He closed his eyes, unsettled and marvelling at her shrewdness, her parting words ringing in his ears.

_Think about it, Ronald._

**********

Harry was feeling restless. He stood in the ruined Gryffindor common room and gently poked some of the rubble on the floor with his foot. Despite being reassured by Minerva that Hogwarts would be returned to its former glory, he could not help but feel saddened at the devastation that had been wrought in the battle with Voldemort and his forces. Even here in the common room – his sanctuary for so many years – the destruction had been devastating and almost total. The fireplace was in bits; the furniture strewn across the floor and even some the flagstones underfoot had been rent in two. And yet not all had been destroyed; when he and Hermione had first entered the common room after leaving the Headmistresses’ office, both had been struck at the small table in the corner of the room. On it stood a thin vase containing a single red rose – probably placed there by Neville – and it seemed incongruous to him that something so pure, so fragile, should remain untouched when so much had been destroyed all around it.

‘How are you feeling, Harry?’

He smiled as he turned to the source of the question. Hermione sat in the only armchair that had escaped the destruction.

‘I feel fine. Honestly, I do,’ he added as he noticed her eyebrow lift cynically. ‘I’m still a bit sore from the battle, but mentally, I couldn’t be better. I’m just a bit worried about this appeal.’

Hermione made to reply but she was forestalled as the portrait hole swung open and Ron stepped through, a thoughtful expression on his face. He stepped into the middle of the room and regarded his two friends solemnly. For what seemed like an interminable amount of time, no one said anything.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Ron, finally breaking the silence.

Hermione struggled to contain her shock. Of all the things she expected him to say, that had not been one of them. She had expected an argument; a rant. She had not expected contrition.

‘I was being selfish,’ continued Ron. ‘It is always about you, Harry, but I know you don’t want or ask for that. And I know too that no one deserves to have to deal with the stuff that comes your way.’ He looked at his feet. ‘I won’t pretend that I’m not hurt by what has happened. My feelings for you were real,’ he added, finally looking directly at Hermione.

‘Were?’

‘Yes. I was…encouraged to question my motives,’ continued Ron. His face twisted into a tight smile; one that was more like a grimace. ‘Sometimes you can’t see the truth because it’s right under your nose. Sometimes you need someone else to make you see that truth. I guess I needed that. I guess I have needed that for a long time.’

Hermione wondered at the change that had come over her friend. ‘Who was your “someone?”’ she asked.

‘Luna.’

‘Ah.’

Ron smiled broadly at the response, once again struck by the depth of meaning that could be conveyed by that single syllable.

‘Yeah. “Ah,”’ he replied. ‘Look; the short version is that Luna made me realise that I was behaving like an arse. Harry loves you and you love him and there isn’t anything I can do about that is there? You are both my friends – my best friends - and while I won’t pretend I’m not hurt by this, I’m not going to let it jeopardise our friendship. You two are the best thing to ever happen to me. Besides; Harry is in danger and that is the most important thing we have to deal with.’

Hermione felt tears smart at her eyes and she climbed out of her chair and engulfed Ron in an embrace so tight it nearly squeezed the life from him.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered into his ear before stepping back and planting a kiss on his cheek. 

‘Hey! Don’t confuse the issue! I thought it was Harry you liked?” Ron exclaimed but he was smiling as he said this.

For his part, Harry approached Ron, his hand outstretched in greeting. ‘Thanks, mate,’ he began. ‘I never meant for this to happen or to hurt you. Are we cool?’

Ron didn’t hesitate, taking the offered hand and shaking it firmly. ‘We’re cool, Harry. Of course we are cool.’ He paused for a moment. ‘How are you doing anyway? How are you feeling? Any more visits from dead people?’

Harry smiled despite the seriousness of the situation. ‘Not yet,’ he finally replied. ‘I’m expecting a visit soon, but I’ve not heard anything yet.’

Ron shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Harry. Nothing is ever straightforward with you, is it?’ There was no malice in the question; just a matter-of-fact appreciation of the truth.

All three turned as the portrait hole swung open again.

‘Harry? Are you there?’ exclaimed a familiar voice.

Harry grimaced, having hoped to avoid this meeting for a while longer. _Ginny_.

‘Hi, Ginny.’

‘HARRY!’ she exclaimed as she rushed into the common room and threw her arms around him. Hermione watched carefully, her lips thinning, as Harry awkwardly patted his ex-girlfriend on the shoulder. It was some time before he managed to prise Ginny off him.

‘I only just heard you woke up! Why didn’t you come and tell me?’ she asked, a hint of reproof in her tone.

‘I…I had other things to do,’ Harry replied. ‘I needed to speak to Dumbledore’s portrait.

‘Oh, that’s where you have been! I had heard a rumour that Dumbledore had visited you. Nonsense, of course. Was that where the rumour started? Because you visited his portrait?’ Ginny was talking with the speed of the Hogwarts Express and it occurred to Hermione that she was nervous about something. _What other rumours had she heard?_

‘Not exactly, Ginny,’ Harry replied. ‘I visited his portrait because Dumbledore did visit me. He told me I was dead.’

Ginny laughed out loud for a few seconds before realising that no one else shared the joke. She stopped abruptly, the silence only further emphasising how out of place her laughter had been at that moment. ‘You’re serious?’ she finally asked.

Harry nodded.

‘How can you be dead? You look perfectly fine to me.’

‘I was supposed to have been collected by Dumbledore after Voldemort died. There was a mix-up and he didn’t arrive for two hours. He tried to take me with him but I refused.’

Hermione watched as Ginny struggled to take all of this in. She actually sympathised with her red-haired friend at that moment; this was a lot to take in and the story did seem preposterous. Ginny’s brow furrowed as she considered everything.

‘If you are supposed to be dead, why didn’t Dumbledore take you with him anyway? Why did you have a choice?’ Ginny finally asked.

_The million-galleon question_ thought Hermione. It didn’t surprise her that Ginny had asked it; no one ever said Ginny was stupid.

Harry took his time before replying. ‘Because something happened in the borrowed time.’

‘What happened?’

‘I fell in love,’ replied Harry. ‘And someone fell in love with me.’

Ginny immediately turned and faced Hermione. She had a look on her face that suggested she had just sucked on a dozen lemons, thought Hermione. It was not an attractive look.

‘ _I knew it!’_ Ginny hissed. ‘What have you done to him?’ she asked accusingly.

Hermione had been expecting a reaction but was still taken aback by the venom in the question. She wasn’t going to stand for Ginny’s tone though. She stuck out her jaw.

‘Nothing. I didn’t do anything to him save tell him I love him,’ she said defiantly. ‘And he loves me and that’s all I have to say on the matter. Harry’s fighting for his life and we don’t have time for petty bickering.’

‘Petty bickering?’ Ginny was incredulous. ‘You steal my boyfriend and say it’s petty?’

‘That’s enough, Ginny,’ said Ron, softly. Ginny whipped round to face her brother, an incredulous look on her face.

‘What? You too? Have you taken leave of your senses? Are you mad? Does this nonsense not bother you?’

‘It’s not nonsense, Ginny and that’s why it does bother me. But there is nothing I can do about it. Hermione loves Harry. Harry loves Hermione. What would you have me do? Use a potion on them?’ he asked caustically. Hermione noticed Ginny suddenly redden at this remark but before she could say anything, Ron continued.

‘It’s about time you grew up, Ginny,’ he said sadly. ‘We don’t always get what we want.’

Ginny didn’t know how to react. Her eyes flitted from one to the other like a trapped animal. Finally, they settled on Harry who has said nothing throughout the entire exchange.

‘Is this true? Do you love Hermione? she asked.

‘Yes.’ One word that said everything.

Ginny gasped. Her body shook in mini-convulsions as she fought back tears. Finally, she could contain it no longer and she turned and fled back through the portrait hole. Ron turned to the others, his face grim.

‘I’ll go after her,’ he began. ‘It’s been a tough day,’ he added with great understatement, before leaving the common room in pursuit of his sister.

Harry turned to face Hermione, his face betraying his distress. ‘Are we doing the right thing, Hermione? he asked. ‘We seem to be hurting everyone we love. Maybe we should…’

‘Don’t you dare, Harry,’ she interrupted. ‘There is more at stake here than some hurt feelings. I love you and you love me and your survival depends on that – or had you forgotten?’ she added, caustically.

Harry closed his eyes. ‘I know, Hermione. I’m sorry; I didn’t quite mean it like that.’ He opened his eyes and looked right at her. ‘I do love you, Hermione. There’s no point to my life if I can’t be with you. I guess that’s why I am so torn. I don’t hold out much hope for my prospects of surviving this and part of me wonders what’s going to happen to you if I don’t.’

‘You mustn’t think like that, Harry,’ she replied softly. She felt tears begin to fall down her cheeks. ‘You must believe that we will be fine! Nothing else matters, Harry. This isn’t about a childish crush; this is about life and death. You have to stop being so pessimistic!’

Harry made to reply but stopped abruptly as he recognised a familiar smell. _Oh, no…not now!_ he implored as the overpowering scent of treacle tart permeated his nostrils.

‘What is it Harr-:’ Hermione started, before being cut off.

‘Damn you, Albus!’ Harry exclaimed in frustration. ‘Why is your timing always so lousy?’

Albus Dumbledore looked nonplussed. ‘I’m very sorry, Harry, but I have no say in these matters. I had no idea that this wasn’t a good time,’ he added apologetically.

Harry barely paid him any attention. Instead, his focus was on the woman who stood in front of him, once more frozen in time,

‘You could have at least allowed me to say goodbye,’ he said softly. ‘I might never get to speak to her again.’

‘I am sorry, Monsieur Potter,’ said an unfamiliar voice. Harry turned to the source and failed to hide his surprise at facing a man dressed in clothes from the Eighteenth Century.

‘And who the hell are you?’ he snapped.

‘Pardon, mon ami! My name is Celeste, and I am the Recorder sent to collect you.’ He took off his hat and sketched a low bow as he said this.

‘Collect me? asked Harry, his heart thumping in his chest. ‘So, I am dead? It is official?’

‘Non, non , non!’ exclaimed Celeste. ‘You have been granted leave to appeal. I am merely here to take you to your hearing,’ he continued.

Harry turned to Dumbledore, hope rising within him. ‘Really?’

Dumbledore nodded. ‘Really. The Boss has allowed this owing to the unique nature of your situation. But we must depart; time is short.’

Harry looked at him shrewdly. ‘How can time be short? I thought you had frozen time?’

Dumbledore had the good grace to look sheepish. ‘Yes; it is frozen here on Earth, but in the Other World they are waiting for us. We must go.’

‘One moment, mon ami,’ said Celeste. He approached Hermione and slowly circled her, his eyes taking in every inch of her form. ‘So, this is the young lady who has caused so much…disturbance?’ he asked.

‘It is,’ replied Harry, evenly.

‘I can see why you are smitten, monsieur. She is indeed une belle dame!’ Celeste smiled. ‘Come. We must go. They are waiting for us.’

‘Wait!’ exclaimed Harry. ‘Give me a moment,’ he added quietly. He approached Hermione’s still form his eyes drinking in her. Finally, he turned to Dumbledore. ‘Can I kiss her?’ he asked quietly.

The old man smiled. ‘Of course you can, Harry. But she will not feel it.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Harry replied. He turned back to Hermione and – after a moment’s hesitation – he leaned in and gently kissed her on the lips.

Celeste rolled his eyes. ‘You British! What is the point of kissing a lady if she does not feel it! To think we were defeated by such philistines!’

Harry ignored him, instead looking at Hermione’s still form, her teardrops static on her cheek. He gently touched one with the tip of his finger. ‘There’s proof she has feelings for me,’ he said quietly, to no one in particular.

‘Of course!’ exclaimed Celeste. ‘There is some of the proof you will need!’

Harry turned to him. ‘Can I take one?’ he asked.

‘You are the defendant,’ replied Celeste. ‘You can do what you want. We need something to carry it in,’ he continued, his eyes scanning the room. ‘Ah!’ he finally exclaimed.

Harry watched as Celeste approached the small table in the corner of the room, one of the few untouched pieces of furniture remaining. The little Recorder gently lifted the rose from the vase and carefully removed a single petal from the flower.

‘Here,’ he said to Harry, offering him the petal. ‘Use this.’

Harry took the offered leaf and turned to Hermione. With exquisite care, he gently slid the petal up her cheek before slipping it under a solitary teardrop. As carefully as he could, he folded the leaf over, capturing the tear within. He stood back from Hermione one last time, his own tears beginning to form.

‘I’m ready,’ he finally said, turning to Dumbledore and Celeste. ‘Let’s go.’


	4. Chapter 4

Harry was nervous.

He hadn’t said a word to either of his companions as they travelled upwards on the staircase, preferring instead to remain alone with his thoughts. He realised that he probably wouldn’t have been in the mood for idle chat anyway, even if his mind had not been churning over the imminent appeal. He would not have been inclined to talk because he was also pre-occupied with the fact that he was rising on an endless staircase that seemed to transcend time and space as he – admittedly vaguely – knew it.

The staircase was vast – and even then, that word did not begin to encompass it. It was only about thirty feet wide, richly carpeted in red velvet, but it was the _length_ that boggled the mind. It just went on and on – or rather; up and up. He could not even begin to see the top of it and it suddenly occurred to him that it was going to take some considerable time to get there judging by the slow rate that they were travelling. He finally turned to the others and both men seemed to guess what he was thinking about.

‘Don’t concern yourself with it, Harry,’ said Dumbledore with a smile. ‘Time has no meaning here; you will find that we will have arrived before you know it.’

Harry looked deeply sceptical at this piece of information but when he turned forwards again, he realised with astonishment that they had reached the top. He flashed back round to face the others and noticed the amused expressions on their faces.

‘I told you not to concern yourself, Harry. It does take some getting used to but one does adjust eventually,’ explained Dumbledore.

Harry had no reply to this. He knew that he had seen some pretty improbable things in his life but this was so far beyond his understanding that he couldn’t even begin to comprehend what was going on. He decided that the best thing to do would be to just go along with the flow. Looking down at his feet, he carefully timed his step so as to avoid the gap where the staircase seemed to disappear into the floor.

_Except; I can’t see the floor._

Everything was white. A brilliant, pure white that dazzled the eyes. There was no way of knowing where the ground ended and the walls began. He turned back to Dumbledore, confused.

‘Is this it?’ he asked. ‘This is the other world?’ He scanned the blankness. ‘It’s a bit dull, isn’t it?’ he finally observed.

Dumbledore and Celeste laughed before his former headmaster finally replied. ‘Oh, do not fret, Harry. This place can be anything you want it to be. However, I am not the one to explain. Come; there are some others who will be only too glad to show you around.’

Harry had an idea what was meant by this and he could feel the increase in his heart rate within him. He allowed Dumbledore to place a hand on his shoulder and turn him and when he was facing the other way, he noticed with astonishment that a massive pair of double doors stood in front of him.

_Where the hell did they come from? They weren’t there a minute ago!_ He realised at that moment that there was no use in being surprised anymore. This place was just different; he had to accept what he encountered for there was nothing else he could do.

He watched with feelings of apprehension mixed with anticipation as the great doors slowly swung open and he felt Dumbledore give him a soft nudge in order for him to go through. Slowly, his hand on his forehead to shield his eyes against the brightness, he made his way through the entrance and was immediately taken unawares as a great cheer rent the air. He could even hear a piercing whistle. He blinked sharply, as he suddenly realised that he could see properly; that the light didn’t hurt his eyes anymore. Removing his hand from his forehead, he looked across and saw a host of familiar faces. Mooney and Tonks; Fred and Mad-Eye; Sirius and a host of others who he had once known. He smiled broadly at the reception until his eyes fell on a young couple who stood at the front of the crowd, just off to the side. They were of the group, but they were not quite in it.

_My parents._

He found himself running; running towards the tall man with the shock of unruly black hair and glasses; and the slim woman with the long, thick, dark red hair and the startlingly green almond shaped eyes.

_My parents!_

Within a few seconds he found himself within the all-encompassing embrace of his mother while his father leaned over them and gripped them both within his arms. He had never experienced anything like it; didn’t have anything to compare it with.

It was the first occasion in his life that he understood how time really could have no meaning. He had no idea how long in the arms of his parents. He was oblivious to everything else. He was unaware of the tears that streamed down his face; of the watching audience – some of whom also were looking distinctly misty-eyed. He only knew that he had never felt such a sense of belonging in his entire life. He instinctively sensed the love from his mother and father and it occurred to him that only one other person loved him in such an unconditional way. His parents and Hermione were the only people who truly loved him for the person he was – faults and all – and who did not demand anything from him in return.

Finally, he felt the loosening of the arms around him and he looked on the faces of his parents.

‘I’ve waited sixteen years to do that,’ said Lily as she wiped at her eyes. She smiled. ‘It was worth the wait,’ she added.

Harry was at a loss for words and could only nod dumbly.

‘We are both so proud of you, Harry,’ said his father. ‘Proud of the fine young man you have become. We have watched you closely over the years; we want you to know that.’

‘You saw everything?’ he finally managed to ask.

‘Everything that mattered,’ replied James. ‘We do give you some privacy,’ he added with a knowing smile. ‘I’m glad to see you kept up the Marauder tradition anyway. You, Ron and Hermione certainly got yourselves involved in a few scrapes over the years. I would have been disappointed had you not.’

Lily swatted her husband on the arm. ‘Enough of that, James! Harry isn’t here to listen about us prying!’ She turned to her son, taking his hand as she did so. ‘So; tell us about Hermione. We have known for some time just what a remarkable young woman she is, but we wondered if you would ever have the wit to realise this for yourself,’ she said impishly.

Harry flushed. ‘She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever known,’ he said quietly.

‘Worth dying for?’ asked his father.

Harry considered the question. ‘Worth living for,’ he replied with a smile. James and Lily laughed at this remark.

‘I suppose so. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To make sure you return to her?’

Harry felt vaguely guilty about this. He had finally got to meet his parents in the flesh and yet he knew he did not want to remain here with them. ‘That’s why I’m here,’ he finally replied. ‘I hope you don’t mind?’

Lily’s eyes softened at the question. ‘Oh, Harry. Of course we don’t mind. We defended you to the death so you could live. So, you could love and laugh and enjoy the benefits of a peaceful life. You will end up here again someday. I can wait a little longer for that. You need Hermione and she is not here. I understand why you are fighting this.’

Harry could only nod his gratitude. ‘Thank you,’ he finally managed. ‘Thank you for…allowing me to live.’

Lily reached over and hugged him again and he could feel her tears on his cheek. ‘It was nothing, son. What else could we have done? We have both loved you from the moment you were born. We will always love you. Don’t forget that when you go back,’ she added as she released him.

‘You think I will win?’ he asked.

James laughed again. ‘We _know_ you will win! When have you never achieved what you set out to do? Your stubborn streak will see you through this. You get that from your mother,’ he added.

‘He does not!’ exclaimed Lily as she swatted his arm again.

‘You must get your gentle nature from me though,’ added James. ‘This one is a tyrant.’

‘That’s true enough!’ exclaimed Sirius. ‘She’s a devil, that one,’ he added as he approached before gathering Harry into a huge bear hug. The others took that as their cue to intrude on the family reunion and the next few minutes were spent by a delighted Harry in accepting hugs and handshakes from a number of people he’d never thought to see again.

Finally, the joyful reunion was interrupted by Celeste who cleared his throat with the loudest stage cough any of them had ever heard.

‘AHEM!’

The Recorder waited until all eyes were turned upon him. ‘I hate to intrude on such a joyful reunion,’ he began, ‘but Harry’s hearing will start soon and he is yet to appoint someone to conduct his defence.’

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the Frenchman and he hated him at that moment. ‘So soon?’ he finally asked. ‘It begins so soon?’

Celeste nodded sympathetically. ‘I’m afraid so, Harry. We are pressed for time.’

‘Time?’ he asked. ‘I thought you said time has no meaning here? Can’t I take as long as I want?’

‘No, you cannot. Time doesn’t matter here, but I was not referring to this place.’

Harry looked confused. ‘So, what are you talking about then?’ he asked.

‘Earth,’ replied Celeste.

‘Earth? But I thought you had frozen time?’

‘We did; but only to get you here. Things are moving as normal now.’

Harry felt himself getting angry. ‘But what about Hermione? She was talking to me and I will have disappeared!’

‘No. You are still there, Harry.’

He really was confused now. ‘How can I be here and on Earth at the same time?’

‘Your body remains on Earth, Harry. It is your soul I am looking at.’

‘So, what’s happened to my body? Is it dead? Have you lied to me?’

‘No! Your body is merely…unconscious at the moment. Should you fail up here it will expire. Should you succeed, you will be able to return to it. But we should make haste for those below are deeply concerned for your welfare. I would have liked to keep them frozen but it takes a lot of effort,’ he added with a smile. ‘Now; you must pick someone to represent you,’ he added. ‘I should tell you; you can have anyone who ever lived.’

‘Anyone?’

‘Anyone at all,’ confirmed Celeste. ‘You could have Rousseau; Victor Hugo; Voltaire, Descartes…’ he paused, realising that Harry looked nonplussed. ‘What is wrong, Monsieur; these are great names; giants of intellect!’

‘Too French,’ replied Harry.

Celeste did not look too happy at this reply. ‘But you need a Frenchman! This is a case about love! Who understands such matters better than a Frenchman?’ He could see that this argument cut no ice with Harry. ‘Ok, then,’ he continued. ‘You could have Socrates, or Plato! Very capable men. They both have deep insights into human nature.’ He looked at Harry hopefully. ‘No? What about Hume? Or Locke? Both British and both extremely insightful men. John Locke might be a good choice. He believes that all knowledge is based on experience. Would you like to use his knowledge of love? I understand he has plenty of experience,’ he added slyly.

‘Not really.’

Celeste sighed then his face brightened. ‘I have just the fellow! William Shakespeare! One could almost believe he was French such is his understanding of human nature. Surely he is perfect for you?’

‘I want Remus Lupin,’ replied Harry with determination.

‘What?’ cried Lupin. ‘Why would you want me?’ he asked incredulously.

‘Because I want someone I know and trust and someone who knows me and Hermione too,’ replied Harry. ‘I need someone who will be objective about this.’ He turned to his parents. ‘Mum and Dad will say black is white to make me happy.’ He pointed to Dumbledore. ‘Albus is too bloody clever for his own good; I won’t have a clue what he is talking about half the time.’ He turned to Sirius and despite his situation, he smiled. ‘Padfoot will be of no use at all. He’ll upset everyone so much that I’ll probably end up in the ninth level of hell by the time he finishes insulting everyone. No offence, Sirius.’

‘None taken,’ replied his Godfather with a smile.

‘So that leaves you, Moony. ‘I want someone I trust and you are the only one I can rely on. Will you do this for me? For us?’

‘Of course I will, Harry,’ Lupin replied after a long moment. ‘I would be honoured. Do you have any idea as to how we should proceed?’

‘A few, he replied. ‘But first I need to know what form this appeal is to take.’ He turned to Celeste, his eyebrow raised in question.

‘Ah,’ began Celeste. ‘Well; it is a straightforward hearing. ‘The prosecution will present a case to the Judge and then you will have the opportunity to present your defence. The Judge will rule after hearing all of the evidence and I must stress that any ruling will be immediate and binding.’

‘Do we know anything of the prosecution case?’ asked Lupin. ‘Are we not entitled to know?’

‘You are not,’ replied Celeste. ‘You must form your own case just as the Prosecution is forming theirs. I believe the man appointed to lead the prosecution is even now gathering his evidence.’

‘Who is the prosecutor?’ asked Harry, curious.

‘I guess that’s my cue,’ said a drawling voice that chilled Harry to the bone. ‘I guess that would be me,’ the voice continued.

Harry closed his eyes and cursed before turning slowly to face the prosecution lawyer. His eyes took in the black clothes; the hooked nose and the greasy black hair.

_Snape._

Severus Snape was the man tasked with keeping him and Hermione apart.

***********

Hermione was worried.

She had been berating Harry for his pessimistic attitude when he had suddenly passed out in front of her and now she fretted helplessly at his complete and utter failure to respond to any medical attention. Poppy was at her wits end as she had no idea what was wrong with him despite her best efforts to diagnose the problem. The Hogwarts nurse insisted that there was nothing medically wrong with Harry – save for the fact that he was completely unconscious. It was enough to make one think.

What she was thinking was that Harry might actually have been telling the truth. She didn’t doubt for one second the veracity of his tale; what she had questioned was whether or not things had occurred as he had related or were in fact all in his mind. Now as she sat on his hospital bed and gently stroked his head, she began to realise that Harry was indeed fighting for his life; that Dumbledore had appeared to him and that – even now – Harry was arguing his case before some sort of Celestial court. She had been sitting by his side all night and now, as the sun began to climb into the eastern sky, she began to feel the pull of sleep herself. She wondered if Harry would wake up to see this glorious new dawn.

Hermione was a naturally sceptical person despite the fact that she was a witch. She knew that magic was something that defied Muggle physical laws but she was also aware that magic had its own laws. She was a practical person and did not have time for the more fanciful aspects of the magical world that Luna was so fond of espousing. She still believed in evidence; in hard practical facts and she was having considerable difficulty in accepting that Harry was involved in something so far beyond her knowledge and understanding.

She gazed on his face and was struck by how peaceful he looked at the moment. Harry had not had an easy life and the stresses of the past year in particular had taken their toll on the man she knew she loved. He had shouldered a burden that would have crushed most men and he had finally fulfilled his destiny by defeating Voldemort last night. It seemed so unfair to her that he was being asked to pay yet another price despite everything he had done for them all and inwardly she raged at the unknown forces that were demanding so much from him. She recalled their brief discussion in the common room; remembered the moment when she had told him of her love. She hadn’t known how he would react but she certainly had not expected him to collapse at her feet. And now that she knew that he loved her in return she felt her heart almost break at the thought that they might never have the opportunity to share and enjoy that love.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as she heard the door to the hospital wing swing open and when she looked up, she realised without surprise that it was Ron who had entered. He had been very subdued since Harry had passed out again and as she remembered his sincere apology from earlier, she wondered what had caused the sudden change in her friend. Something had affected him anyway.

‘How is he?’ Ron asked in a whisper as he approached the bed.

‘No change,’ she replied quietly. ‘He hasn’t stirred all night. It’s almost as if it’s a shell I’m looking at.’

Ron slumped into a nearby chair and regarded his friend. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Hermione, but you look bloody terrible.’ He ignored the sudden flash of anger in her eyes. ‘Do you think he is telling the truth?’

She considered the question for a moment. ‘Yes’’ she finally replied in a small voice.

‘And do you think he loves you?’ asked Ron.

She nodded.

‘And do you really love him?’ asked Ron and she could detect from his voice just how much this question was costing him.

She nodded again.

‘Then you are going to have to sort yourself out, Hermione,’ Ron said softly. ‘You need to sleep; you need to eat. You will be of no use whatsoever to him when he wakes up if you carry on like this.’

‘I can’t,’ she replied and the tears threatened to fall again. ‘I’m worried that if I go to sleep then Harry might…he might…’ she couldn’t bring herself to say that which she feared the most. _That he might not ever wake up. That he might die when she wasn’t at his side._

Ron moved towards her and gripped her by the shoulders. ‘He _will_ wake up, Hermione. I believe him too and I believe _in_ him. If he has to argue for his life then he will win. He’s Harry Potter! When has Harry ever let anything beat him?’ Ron paused and licked his lips before continuing. ‘If he loves you, Hermione, nothing will keep him from you. _Nothing,_ ’ he repeated.

Hermione let go at these words; she let the fear and the sorrow pour out of her and allowed herself to be held in the arms of her friend. She allowed herself to be guided to a nearby bed and did not resist when Ron lay her down and put a blanket over her.

‘Go to sleep, Hermione. I’ll stand watch. I’ll wake you if anything changes.’

She nodded her agreement, too tired to resist anymore. She had drawn some comfort from the embrace and was grateful to Ron for being there for her.

But he wasn’t Harry. It was Harry’s embrace she wanted – no needed – right now. She glanced over to his still form on the other bed and felt the tears on her cheek once again.

_Wake up, love. Wake up,_ she thought as she finally allowed sleep to claim her.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Prosecution…**

Severus Snape sat calmly in his seat as he awaited the arrival of Potter into the courtroom – although “courtroom” was hardly a fair description of the vast amphitheatre that he currently found himself in. He ignored the massive audience as he patiently awaited the hearing to commence. Potter was currently closeted away with Remus Lupin as the two of them hastily tried to build a case. Snape had to admit that he was currently enjoying himself; the reaction of Potter when he had realised who was conducting the Prosecution case had been a joy to behold. Snape was aware that he had not enjoyed much pleasure in life and he was discovering to his delight that his death was providing him with new opportunities for enjoyment.

But pleasure was not the only reason for accepting the role as Prosecutor, although he had to admit that it played a part in his decision. No; the real reason he had accepted when approached was because he believed in order. As he had explained to Lily Evans when she had accosted him, her son was challenging the very Law that governed all of existence. He actually believed that if Potter and Granger had fallen in love in the mistakenly granted extra time then it would be deeply unfair to remove Potter from Earth. He _should_ be allowed to return and enjoy life with Granger.

_If they had fallen in love._

But he wanted proof. This was not some mere technicality; this was a question about order and law and he reckoned that Potter might just be spinning a tale merely to postpone the inevitable. The little whelp had a penchant for rule breaking and while he had to acknowledge Potter’s achievement in defeating the Dark Lord he could not stand idly by while the very Law of the Universe was challenged. Snape was a logical man and a natural cynic; he needed proof and he was damned if he was going to allow Potter an easy time. This was why he had accepted the role. He did not believe Harry Potter; did not believe that he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger and refused to believe that yet another talented Muggle-born witch had fallen for the Potter “charm.”

His lips pursed as he remembered the conversation with Lily Evans – he still could not bring himself to call her by her married name; even here. It was strange; for much of his life his sole motivation for everything he did was her memory. He had been haunted by her when alive and the sight of her beautiful green eyes in the face of Potter had been like a knife in his heart every time he looked upon her son. But here, those feelings had dissipated; had disappeared. It was weird, but he did not feel the obsession here; did not feel the longing or the desire or the bitterness. He understood that it was because of what this place was – he was supposed to be happy here and this would not have been possible if he had still harboured these feelings. But it was strange to look upon her and not feel the old pull. He didn’t understand why, but he knew that he _was_ happy here even though Evans was with Potter. He didn’t even feel the old hatred for his former enemy and this was the most puzzling thing of all.

His musings were interrupted by a sudden murmur from the crowd and he looked up and realised that Potter had finally arrived. He noticed the boy’s astonishment at his surroundings and suppressed a smile at his discomfort. He watched Potter share an exchange with the Recorder, Celeste until finally, their eyes met and he noticed Potter’s features harden in recognition.

Snape smiled as he felt what was for him a new sensation.

_This was going to be...fun!_

***********

Harry nearly collapsed when he first entered the courtroom. For some strange reason he had expected the room to resemble the chamber where he had been tried by the Wizengamot in his fifth year and as a result he was completely blown away by the sight in front of him. He was faced with a vast amphitheatre; one that seemingly stretched into infinity. As far as the eye could see was row after row of people who had come to witness his appeal. He recognised many faces at the front of the multitude but he was astonished at all of the anonymous people who had also decided to watch. He had never seen anything on this scale and was completely taken aback.

‘Why are there so many people here?’ he whispered to Celeste.

The Recorder looked amused. ‘Your case has attracted a lot of interest Monsieur; a great question will be settled here today. What rules the Universe? It is not a small matter, I’m sure you will agree. Many, many people are eagerly awaiting the result.’

‘But I just want to go back to Hermione. I don’t care what rules the Universe!’ exclaimed Harry. ‘This is complicated enough!’

Celeste’s smile broadened. ‘I am afraid that “complicated” does not begin to do it justice. Trust me; you will understand soon enough.’

Harry hid his frustration at the enigmatic reply and wondered to himself if this man was somehow related to Dumbledore. He turned back to the throng and his eyes locked with those of Severus Snape. He felt a sudden determination as he regarded his former professor and it was with a firm tread that he headed towards his seat. He sat and refused to look at the man leading the prosecution. Remus sat down next to him.

They had hastily tried to construct a case for the defence but both had quickly realised how difficult it was going to be. How did one prove love? This was the question he had to answer and they had yet to come up with a solution. He was going to have to wing it once again and the only thing in his favour was that Snape would speak first. At least he would know what he was up against.

‘All rise!’

Harry was shaken out of his reverie at the solemn intonation and hastily stood as he watched the Presiding Judge enter and take his seat. He did not recognise the man but acknowledged that he was a formidable looking individual. He was tall and thin and his face suggested that he carried a great wisdom. He waited until the man was seated before sitting down himself.

‘This Court of Appeal meets to consider the case of Harry James Potter,’ began the Judge. ‘Potter complains that he is being punished for an error that occurred due to the negligence of the Department of Recorders and that his rights and responsibilities that have arisen as a result of this negligence should take precedence over the Law. Leading for the Prosecution is Severus Snape; for the Defence, Remus Lupin. You may proceed, Mr Snape.’

Snape stood and slowly began to pace the brilliant white floor in front of the judge’s bench. He looked deep in thought and some time passed before he finally spoke.

‘Your Honour, this case presents three aspects,’ began Snape, still pacing. ‘Under normal circumstances, Harry James Potter would have died after being cursed by the Dark Wizard Lord Voldemort. Owing to the protection given to him by his mother’s sacrifice, he remained tethered to Earth by the presence of his – and ultimately his mother’s – blood that resided in the person of Lord Voldemort. He was given the opportunity to return in order to defeat the Dark Lord. Having destroyed his enemy – and with it the lingering protection – he should himself have died too as that which had tethered him was no more. Because of a mere oversight, he did not die at his proscribed time. This leads me to ask; who is responsible? Of course; the initial error occurred here but when Albus Dumbledore was sent to collect Mr Potter two hours later he refused to leave Earth. Thus, some of the blame for our current predicament must lie with Mr Potter. He _claims_ that in this illegal time granted to him, he fell in love with a Miss Hermione Granger. This leads us to point two; are we to believe him?’

Snape paused for effect as he laid this question before the court. He turned to the audience. ‘Moreover; Mr Potter asserts that in this stolen time…’

‘Objection, Your Honour!’ exclaimed Lupin. Snape raised an eyebrow at the interruption and the judge regarded Lupin balefully. Lupin wilted under the stare but persevered.

‘Your Honour, I object to the use of the words “stolen” and “illegal” in the Prosecutor’s opening remarks. By definition, “stolen” means that something has been taken by someone who is not the real owner. My client did not take anything; he neither sought nor asked for the extra time. It was _given_ to him. He is the true owner of this time.’

The judge looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘I agree, Mr Lupin. Prosecution will refrain from using such prejudicial terms in future. Please continue.’

Snape curtly nodded his acknowledgment of the instruction and continued his pacing. ‘We now must consider the third aspect of this case; does Miss Granger love Harry Potter? This is as important as the claim of love made by Mr Potter. What is at stake here is the Law of the Universe itself. Mr Potter seeks to evade that which must visit us all and I seek to demonstrate that he is not telling the truth; that he is not in love with Miss Granger and that Miss Granger is not in love with him. Accordingly; I call Mr Potter to the stand.’

Harry had been expecting this. Both he and Lupin had been aware that Snape would want to cross-examine him. He made to rise but felt Lupin’s restraining hand on his arm.

‘Remember, Harry; be careful. Snape is as slippery as an eel and he’ll try to trip you up. Don’t lose your temper.’

Harry nodded his acknowledgement at the advice and proceeded to the witness box, taking his seat slowly. He looked up and noticed Snape regarding him with a glint in his eye.

‘Your name?’ asked Snape, consulting a piece of parchment as he did so.

Harry looked confused for a moment. ‘You know my name,’ he replied. ‘Why are you asking me that?’

Snape rolled his eyes. ‘This is a Court of Law; the correct procedures will be followed!’ he snapped at Harry. ‘Now; I ask you again. Name?’

‘Harry James Potter,’ he replied, feeling mutinous. _This was absurd._

‘Date of birth?’

‘Thirty first of July 1980,’ he replied with resignation. He decided that Snape needed taken down a peg or two. His former teacher was swelling with self-importance and his attitude was really beginning to annoy him.

‘Your education?’

Harry considered the question for a moment. ‘Interrupted,’ he finally replied. ‘Frequently and violently interrupted.’ This brought a few sniggers from the audience. Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

‘Religion?’

‘No thank you. My life is complicated enough as it is.’ More laughter. He noticed that Celeste had a huge grin on his face but that Remus was shaking his head in warning.

‘Politics?’

‘See “religion,”’ replied Harry. ‘Is this really necessary?’ he asked.

Snape regarded him for a long moment before he spoke again. ‘Your attitude is typical, Potter, and demonstrates your immaturity and your arrogance. I find this revealing; it tells me that you have not yet developed emotionally enough to know what love is.’

‘I know what love is,’ Harry replied evenly. ‘Do you, _Severus_?’ he asked, his tone barbed.

Snape flushed at the question but did not reply. Instead, he started his pacing once again. ‘I do not believe that you are in love with Miss Granger. I do believe that you may have tricked her into falling for you, however.’ Snape looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘You are a famous Wizard, Mr Potter. You are also considered to be something of a hero to many people and this brings with it its own benefits, does it not? I suppose that under most criteria, you could not be considered ugly. I will even admit that your smile is not unattractive. Did you use this smile and your fame to enamour Miss Granger once you realised your death was imminent?’

‘I love her!’ Harry exclaimed angrily.

‘So, you say. Now; answer the question!’

Harry thought about this for a moment. ‘Would you repeat the question please? It, erm, had the word “enamour” in it.’ He could hear more chuckles from the audience. The audience were enjoying this. He knew, however, that Snape was getting angry. _Good._

Snape rolled his eyes. ‘Idiot boy!’ he hissed. ‘You claim you love her?’

‘I do love her.’

‘Can you prove it?’

Harry smiled. ‘I reckon I could. I just need time.’

‘Time?’

‘Yeah. One hundred years ought to do it.’ Once again, he could hear a few sniggers from the audience. He was aware that he might be coming across as flippant but Snape’s questioning was needling him. Besides; he never could resist the opportunity to twist the tail of Severus Snape.

‘This is no laughing matter, Mr Potter,’ snarled Snape. ‘I will ask you again; can you prove it?’

Harry considered the question. ‘Can a starving man prove he is hungry except by eating?’ he asked pointedly.

Snape was surprised at the counter question. He decided to change tack slightly. ‘Would you die for her?’ he asked quietly.

‘I would. I already have died for her – isn’t that why I am here?’ he asked bitterly. ‘I’d rather live for her though.’

Snape looked thoughtful for a moment before he turned to the bench. ‘Need I remind the court that it was not only Miss Granger that Mr Potter was willing to die for? He sacrificed himself for a number of people; not just her.’ He turned back to Harry. ‘I do not dispute that Mr Potter has strong feelings for Miss Granger. Indeed; I am even prepared to accept that he loves her. But I am not willing to accept that he is _in love_ with her. I intend to prove this to the court.’

‘And how do you intend to do that?’ sneered Harry. ‘Who can possibly reveal how I feel about Hermione?’

Snape smiled at the question and Harry did not like this smile. It was very calculating.

‘Why; you of course, Mr Potter. You forget where you are. Anything is possible in this place. I shall prove to the court that you are not in love with Miss Granger and that she is not in love with you. I shall do so by using your own knowledge. As you correctly pointed out; who else would know?’

Snape turned and flicked his wrist vaguely and Harry was astonished when a giant image of Hermione appeared in front of the court. It was like a giant projector screen and Harry had a sudden sense of foreboding as he realised what Snape was up to.

‘I cannot prove to this court that you are not in love with Miss Granger,’ said Snape. ‘But you can, Mr Potter. You can and you will.’

Harry turned to the screen as images from his life began to flash before his eyes. _Oh, shit…_

There was an eleven-year-old Hermione as she entered his compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

_‘Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,’_ and the bossiness in her voice was clear for all to hear. What was also clear was his and Ron’s unfavourable first impression of the bushy haired girl. The image faded and a new one emerged, this time from third year.

_‘First the Firebolt and now Scabbers; everything is my fault, isn’t it?’ snapped a tearful Hermione. ‘Just leave me alone, Harry!’_

This image also faded, to be replaced by one from fourth year. He was talking to Viktor Krum near the forest edge.

_‘Hermy-own-ninny talks about you very often,’ said Krum. ‘Yeah; because we’re friends,’_ he heard himself replying, denying that he loved Hermione with the words.

The scene changed again, this time to just before the Third Task. They were sitting in the great hall and he was addressing Molly.

_‘Mrs Weasley; you didn’t believe all that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly did you? Because Hermione’s not my girlfriend.’_

The scene shifted again; this time to a gloomy high-ceilinged room in Grimmauld Place where he was tearing strips off Ron and a seriously upset Hermione for not contacting him during the summer. The images appeared and reappeared faster and faster, snippets of conversation being picked up here and there.

_"Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?"_ He found himself surprised at hearing the scorn in his own voice. He couldn’t remember speaking to her in such a hostile tone. __  
  


_"No," said Hermione calmly, "I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite a nice if you stopped jumping down Ron's and my throats, Harry, because if you haven't noticed, we're on your side."_

And there was more to come… _._

_"This isn't a criticism, Harry! But you do ... sort of ... I mean -- don't you think you've got a bit of a -- a_ \-- _saving people thing?_ "

Harry closed his eyes, aware that these snippets of memory did not bode well. He also knew that what had been shown so far was just the merest sip – a brief foretaste of what lay ahead. Worse was to come, he knew. A lot worse.

He opened his eyes and was not surprised to see Hermione sitting teary eyed alone in a classroom, a flock of birds gently circling her. He remembered his own feelings of inadequacy at her distress and watched as Ron burst in with Lavender. Hermione’s reaction – almost that of a scorned lover – told the watching audience much about where her true feelings lay.

Then he was watching Ginny with Dean again and he remembered his own feelings of irrational jealousy as he saw them together. That it did not bother him now mattered not, he knew. It had mattered then. Next it was an image of him kissing Ginny surrounded by cheering classmates; Ron nodding his approval and Hermione looking delighted – _delighted_ – at the event.

But Snape still wasn’t finished. Now it was the image of him kissing Ginny again at the Burrow prior to setting out on the Horcrux hunt. Then it was the argument with Ron in the tent; the abrupt departure of his red-haired friend followed by images of Hermione in distress. Night after night she sobbed in her camp bed and night after night, he avoided her like the plague and ignored her completely, preferring instead to watch for Ginny’s name on the Marauders Map. Watching these scenes again made him realise just how callous he had been. These were not the actions of a man in love.

And still it got worse. The scene shifted to a small pool in a forest where he listened to his own, damning words as he spoke to a visibly distressed Ron.

_‘I love her like a sister and I reckon she feels the same way about me. It has always been like that. I thought you knew.’_

He closed his eyes again, knowing that there was no defence to Snape’s case. His love for Hermione had been weighed in the balance and had been found wanting. It did not matter that he had suppressed any feelings of love; that he had believed that she loved Ron and that he was not willing to breach two friendships by declaring his own feelings. He’d thought he was going to die and had wanted his two friends to be happy. It did not matter that he had feared to go near Hermione in the tent lest his control crack and he drive her away too. His words and actions were not those of a man in love with a woman. What was worse was the fact that Snape had also demonstrated that Hermione did not – could not – love him as it was quite evident that Ron was the true object of her affections.

He opened his eyes, knowing what would be next and watched as his two best friends sealed their love with a kiss as all hell was breaking loose around them in the final battle. No one in the audience was laughing now; no one was making any noise at all as the vast audience watched these scenes from his life play out in front of them. He realised that many of them were regarding him with accusing glances.

Snape had done his work well.

Harry felt crushed. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him and he turned to Lupin who had a despairing look on his face. This evidence was damning; it was all his own memories – all his own words and actions. He glanced up and noticed that Snape had a look of triumph on his face.

‘It is quite plain that Mr Potter is not in love with Miss Granger. Are these the actions of a man in love? It is equally evident that Miss Granger’s heart belongs to another.’ He paused and licked his lips; a slow smile forming on his face.

‘I don’t think I need to add anything else,’ continued his former Potions Professor. ‘The Prosecution rests.’

Not a sound could be heard now save for Snape’s footsteps as he returned to his seat. Each clack on the floor was like a death knell to Harry.

He had been damned by his own deeds.

_How can I possibly counter this?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Remus Lupin took his time as he rose from his chair and allowed the slow, deliberate movements to calm him as he pondered on the best way to approach this case. He had been ambushed; he knew that he should not have been surprised by Snape’s competence but nonetheless he still felt as if he had been mugged, such was the completeness of Severus’ argument. When he and Harry had closeted themselves away in order to prepare a defence it had not occurred to either of them that Severus might choose this approach. It was a great pity that Severus Snape was such a damnably clever man.

But Lupin knew that he too was not without intellect. Out of all the Marauders, he knew that he was the one who always tried to follow his reason rather than his instinct. He was well aware of the irony of this situation; after all, when he was alive, for three days a month he lost all reason and became the most primitive and impulsive of beasts. But for the rest of the month he had always used his intellect and knew that it had always been his good temper and reason that had saved the Marauders from really getting into bother. He needed that reason now and counted his blessings that he had spotted a flaw in Severus’ case. The man was clever but it seemed that he was too clever for his own good.

He slowly approached the witness stand and gestured to Harry to remain seated. He had been about to rise but Remus knew that there was no point; that he would have to question Harry just as Severus had done. He stood absolutely still as he considered his opening words. In contrast to Snape and his continuous pacing, Remus Lupin resembled a statue as he stood with his arms folded; his head down and his chin resting on his hand. He was aware of the scrutiny of the vast audience but did not allow this to distract him as he finally realised how to begin. He looked up to the judge.

‘Your Honour, before I begin, I feel the need to congratulate Severus for advocating such a comprehensive case against Mr Potter. If the purpose of this hearing was to establish whether or not my client has always been in love with Hermione Granger then I would freely admit that Severus has won conclusively. However; that is not why we are here. I fear that Severus has – quite unintentionally – missed the point. His rather selective examination of Mr Potter’s memories is completely irrelevant to the matter at hand. We are not trying to determine whether or not Mr Potter loved Miss Granger throughout his life; what we must consider in this case are the events that transpired after his untimely “death.”’

Lupin turned to face the audience after these opening remarks and continued in his reasonable tone. ‘The real issue in this case is the right of the individual against the system.’

‘The rights of the common man are what the Law is all about, Lupin,’ interrupted Snape, clearly affronted at being accused of missing the point.

Lupin turned to him. ‘I quite agree, Severus; but what we are dealing with here is the rights of the _uncommon_ man. You said in your statement that this was a court of Law. In some ways, you are correct. In other – more important – ways, you are completely wrong. This is a court of _justice_ , not of law. I am not interested in the Law; I am only interested in obtaining justice for my rather uncommon young friend here.’

He turned back to the judge. ‘You’re Honour; the real question at stake is whether or not a young man and woman fell in love within the disputed two hours of overtime. Without the celestial error, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger would not have declared their love for each other. Now they face the prospect of being cruelly penalised for what is the most natural and pure event in the world – falling in love. They love each other! That is all that matters here – everything else is mere form. Harry Potter now has rights and responsibilities in respect of Miss Granger that he would not otherwise have had were it not for an error made here. What Severus has shown us today is completely irrelevant; I am sure my client would not seek to pretend that he has always acted in a manner towards Miss Granger that demonstrates his love for her. But that is of no matter; what matters is that he loves her now – and that she loves him.’

‘Objection, Your Honour,’ cut in Snape. ‘I take exception to the suggestion that events prior to the disputed time are of no relevance. Does Mr Lupin really expect us to believe that his client’s past actions towards Miss Granger are of no importance? I contest that they are vital to understanding this case in full. Or would Mr Lupin have us believe that Mr Potter underwent some sort of epiphany? That he fell in love with a woman he has known for years in the space of two hours? Rather convenient if you ask me,’ added Snape sarcastically.

‘Objection noted, Mr Snape,’ replied the judge. He turned to Lupin. ‘I am inclined to agree with this point of view. Mr Potter’s prior actions suggest that his falling in love with Miss Granger would be improbable to say the least.’

‘Improbable but not impossible,’ replied Lupin. ‘This is what I intend to establish. He finally turned to Harry.

‘Do you love Hermione Granger?’ he asked.

Harry had been expecting the question. Ever since hearing Snape’s case he had felt an overwhelming sense of despair but the opening remarks of Remus had done much to increase his sense of optimism. It also occurred to him that if he could still feel despair – even in this place – then he clearly was not yet dead. Hope – that great gift – still flickered in his heart.

‘Yes,’ he replied simply.

Lupin nodded. ‘You know what I am going to ask, Harry? If events prior to the disputed extra time are to be considered by this court then you know what is required of you? The prosecution has used rather selective memories to demonstrate its case. Will you do the same?’

Harry nodded his understanding. ‘I know what I need to do,’ he replied quietly. He closed his eyes for a few moments in order to gather his thoughts. Finally, he looked up at Lupin and nodded. Their eyes met for a few brief moments and Remus smiled at him before turning and flicking his arm much in the manner that Snape had done. Immediately, the sleeping form of Hermione Granger could be seen by all present.

‘Ah!’ exclaimed Celeste. ‘The lovely Miss Granger; indeed, she is a woman worth living for! See her now; she walks in beauty like the night!’

All eyes turned to the Recorder who did not look too perturbed at being the centre of attention. Snape looked particularly disdainful.

‘A very pretty comparison, my dear Celeste,’ he began. ‘But Miss Granger sleeps; not walks. And it is daytime,’ he added with a sneer.

Celeste shook his head. ‘The time is of no importance! What is time? A mere tyranny! You English; you have no understanding of these matters.’ He shook his head mournfully ‘I am surprised that Mr Potter has such a sense of romance. He must have French blood in his veins somewhere!’

This observation brought a few sniggers from the audience – not least from Harry who did not consider himself the least bit French – or romantic either for that matter. He smiled his appreciation at Celeste before turning to the matter at hand. He closed his eyes and began to remember; to recall all the little things that explained why he loved Hermione Granger.

He did not open his eyes; did not see what was being projected on the “screen.” But the others saw – and understood.

The first image was of himself and Ron saving Hermione from the troll; the desperate rescue followed by her lying to a teacher for them. Thus, were the first bonds of friendship forged. The image abruptly changed to one of two first year students; one throwing her arms around the other, her lip trembling.

_‘Books! And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery and – Oh Harry – be careful’_

The image changed again to the Hogwarts hospital wing where a glassy eyed Hermione lay absolutely motionless in an eerie foretelling of what had happened to her earlier. Harry sat next to her in despair before the image changed again…

_‘You solved it! You solved it!’_ exclaimed Hermione after greeting him when she woke. Her exuberance was contagious. The images began to speed up; flashes coming and going just as when Snape was doing the same thing.

They were flying through the air together on the back of Buckbeak; Hermione gripping him as if her life depended on it. The scene switched to just outside the portrait hole of the Fat Lady; Hermione offering him some toast. _‘Well, of course I knew you hadn’t entered yourself.’_ Then it was the Yule Ball and how beautiful she looked with her sleek hair and periwinkle blue dress. Then it was the image of Harry battling with the mer-people to save her in the lake; her head lolling as the frigid waters buffeted her. Then an image of Hermione’s disapproval when Fleur kissed him and the soft kiss she herself planted on Harry’s cheek at King’s Cross once term was over.

It soon became apparent that there was a lot _more_ of this type of memory; that Snape’s case had been built on exceptions rather than the rule. Image after image flashed before the eyes of the audience and one salient fact soon became evident; Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were inseparable. Not all of the images were moments of crises or intimacy; instead, Harry was able to demonstrate how Hermione had always been there for him; how – no matter what he was doing – he’d never had to look far in order to find her. Whether it was in the common room or the library; the great hall or the classroom; Hermione Granger was an ever present by his side.

The next clear scene was of Hermione throwing herself onto him in a hug when he arrived at Grimmauld place for the first time; _‘HARRY! Ron, he’s here, Harry’s here! We didn’t hear you arrive! Oh, how are you?’_ It was not lost on the watching audience that this was something that Snape had pointedly omitted from his version of events. The scene changing didn’t stop here however.

Next it was Harry seizing Hermione and pulling her behind him; shielding her as Grawp fist scraped past the tree trunk where she had been standing. Then it was the “saving people” speech; only this time the image changed to them flying to the Ministry on the back of Thestrals. This is what Snape had failed to reveal; that Hermione had followed when he needed her, despite her fears. Then it was the Department of Mysteries.

_"RUN!' Harry yelled, and as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to pour from above, he seized a handful of Hermione's robes and dragged her forward, one arm over his head as chunks of shelf and shards of glass thundered down upon them…”Don’t let her be dead. Don’t let her be dead…”_ the audience heard Harry pleas as the unconscious form of Hermione lay sprawled on the floor. The scene changed again; this time to the Potions dungeon.

The image changed; now it was Harry’s sixth year and a brief flash or Hermione’s reaction when he told her of the Prophecy then _“Oho! One of my best friends is Muggle-born and she’s the best in our year,” mimicked Slughorn. Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression_ ….next was Harry looking decidedly ill at ease as he overheard Hermione mention that she was going to invite Ron to partner her to Slughorn’s party.

The pictures continued to change; seemingly inconsequential moments yet each spoke volumes of the deep bond that Harry Potter shared with Hermione Granger. By the time they reached the Horcrux hunt and Ron leaving; the battle with Nagini; the deeply intimate moment at the graves of Lily and James Potter no one watching was left in any doubt about the depth of feeling the two had for each other. The final image before the screen vanished was that of Hermione declaring her love in the common room.

A low murmur could be heard from the audience as Harry finally opened his eyes. Lupin turned to him and smiled broadly.

‘Well done,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Exactly what I was looking for.’ He turned back to face the judge.

‘You’re Honour? I believe that if the evidence produced by the Prosecution is deemed to be of relevance in this case then what we have just observed is also of relevance. As I said in my opening remarks; this case is not about what occurred before Mr Potter was scheduled to die; it should only be about what happened afterwards. I am willing, however, to indulge Severus because I believe that what we have seen refutes his argument.’

‘I disagree,’ drawled Snape and Lupin was surprised by the interruption. ‘This refutes nothing. There is an aspect of this case that you seem to be failing to understand, Lupin.’

‘There is?’

Indeed; you are failing to appreciate that I do not need to prove that Mr Potter and Miss Granger are in love. The burden of proof is all on you. What you have shown me proves nothing.’

Lupin turned to the Judge. ‘Is this true, sir?’

The judge took a moment to reflect on the question. ‘It is true, Mr Lupin,’ he finally replied. ‘Mr Potter seeks to avoid death; this is no mere triviality we are dealing with. In principle, I am willing to accept that his rights and responsibilities should take precedence over the Law in view of the error committed by the Department of Recorders, but he must prove to this court that he loves Miss Granger and that she loves him. Do you have any evidence of a more tangible nature?’ he asked, an eyebrow raised.

Lupin stared at the judge for a long moment before he finally turned to Harry. ‘Do you have it?’ he asked in a quiet voice as he approached.

Harry knew exactly what Lupin was talking about. He reached into his pocket and carefully removed the folded rose petal; the blossom that contained the only physical evidence that Hermione Granger loved him. He carefully unfolded it, relieved to see that the solitary teardrop remained frozen, before handing it to Remus. He watched as his father’s friend slowly approached the judge; the petal held up for all to see.

‘On this rose depends the fate of Mr Potter,’ began Remus. ‘And what exactly is it, one might ask? It is a teardrop; a symbol gathered from Miss Granger that demonstrates the depth of feeling she has for Mr Potter. This tear holds love, truth and friendship. These qualities and these qualities alone can build a new world now that Mr Potter has finally destroyed the darkness. Love, truth and friendship,’ he repeated softly. ‘Will you deny my client the right he has to this life that she promises him? Will you deny him the opportunity to fulfil his obligations to Miss Granger? For if not, I suspect that many more tears than this one will be shed. This is, in part, my defence; I ask for life for Harry Potter.’

Murmurs of agreement could be heard from the audience and the judge cast a quick glance around the room before turning his gaze on Lupin. He cleared his throat. ‘I am afraid that such evidence is inconclusive,’ he began. ‘It is incumbent on me to ref…’

‘You’re Honour? I would like to speak to my client if you please?’ cut in Lupin

The judge looked outraged. ‘You would interrupt my summing up?’ he asked.

‘I would,’ replied Remus. ‘I’m not finished with Harry’s defence yet. I would like to speak to my client.’

Silence greeted these words until after what seemed an interminable moment, the judge finally nodded his agreement. ‘You may consult with your client, Mr Lupin.’

Remus approached Harry who had a questioning look on his face. The others watched with interest as he crouched down and the two men whispered quietly to each other for a few moments before Lupin stood with a smile on his face. He turned to the judge and the others could see that Harry too was smiling.

‘Your Honour? I would like to call another witness.’

‘A witness, Mr Lupin? You can call whoever you wish in Mr Potter’s defence. Who do you choose to call?’

‘I would call Miss Hermione Granger.’


	7. Chapter 7

‘I would call Miss Hermione Granger.’

Silence greeted these words; a silence that seemed to stretch into eternity. ‘Impossible,’ the Judge finally replied. ‘She is still alive; we cannot call her here!’

‘Technically I am still alive,’ said Harry. ‘Or has my fate already been decided?’ he asked caustically. He left the confines of the witness stand and approached the bench. ‘Since I have arrived here, I have been told that this is the Other World; that anything is possible. I call Hermione as a witness for the defence. I am not interested in how you arrange it. I need to prove we are in love; I can only do this if my Counsel can question her. You speak of upholding the Law; in that case I am entitled to a fair hearing. If this indeed is a Court of Law then you will not refuse me. I call Hermione to the stand.’

‘I object, Your Honour,’ cut in Snape. ‘Potter may be used to having rules changed to suit him, but surely here, of all places, the rules must be applied without fear or favour? The life of Miss Granger is not in question. Her survival is assured regardless of the outcome of this appeal. As she is very much alive, I do not believe she is permitted to visit this place. I also believe that her presence is futile; how can she prove that she has fallen in love any more than Potter can?’

The Judge looked grave at these words and Harry could tell that Snape had struck a chord. It was all so unfair. Surely Hermione could be taken at her word! For the first time in this appeal hearing, he began to feel real fear. It was at this moment that Lupin intervened.

‘Without fear or favour, Severus?’ he began. ‘I wholeheartedly agree. And if Harry is to be treated without fear or favour then he is entitled to the same protection of the Law as any man or woman, living or dead. He has the right to call any witness he sees fit; would you deny him this right?’ Remus turned to face the Judge. ‘Would you, sir, deny him this right?’

Harry noticed how uncomfortable the Judge looked when asked this question. He licked his lips before replying. ‘I would see the law upheld, Mr Lupin; in all things I would see the law upheld. And therein lies the problem; it is forbidden for the living to visit the Other World. Mr Potter’s unique situation is all that has allowed him to be here in person. No matter what I decide, I will be breaking the law. It seems to me that denying his request is the lesser of the two evils.’

‘That depends on one’s point of view, Your Honour,’ replied Lupin. ‘I am sure Harry would take issue with your choice of what is the lesser evil.’ He paused for a moment, deep in thought. ‘I did not know it was forbidden for the living to visit the Other World. Is this your only objection to the calling of Miss Granger?’

‘It is,’ replied the Judge. All eyes turned to Snape.

‘It is my only objection,’ he confirmed quietly.

‘Then I believe I have the solution,’ continued Remus. ‘From my short time in this place, I have learned that it is quite common for people from the Other World to visit Earth. If Miss Granger cannot come to us, we must go to her.’

‘Do not be absurd, Lupin,’ began Snape. ‘The idea is preposter…’

‘Why, that is an excellent idea, Monsieur Lupin!’ exclaimed Celeste. All eyes turned on him, including the Judge who had a look on his face that suggested Celeste had better be careful lest he end up in the dock. Celeste at least had to good grace to look sheepish as he bobbed his head in apology. The Judge turned to Snape and Lupin.

‘Actually, that is rather a good idea,’ he began. ‘Is Miss Granger available?’

Celeste quickly pulled an hour glass from under his cloak and peered at it intently. ‘She sleeps, Your Honour,’ he replied.

‘Ah! She sleeps! This simplifies things, somewhat,’ said the Judge. He leaned back in his chair and moved his arm in a sweeping gesture. ‘If Miss Granger cannot come here, then we must go to her.’ He clicked his fingers together and Harry felt the oddest sensation as the vast amphitheatre seemed to dissolve around him and he found himself standing once again on the vast, red-carpeted staircase. The only difference was that this time, the staircase was moving downwards. A blue dot in the distance indicated where his destination lay and his heart felt full in his chest as he realised that he would soon see Hermione again. However, this appeal hearing played out, he would at least get to speak to her one more time.

Satisfied, he turned to see who else was with him and realised with relief that Remus was standing immediately behind him. Glancing round his friend, he saw too that Snape, the Judge, Celeste, his parents, Sirius and Dumbledore also accompanied him along with a few others he did not recognise but figured must be important to proceedings. He turned back around and was once again caught out as he found himself in the infirmary at Hogwarts, the staircase coming to a gentle halt just yards from his “usual” bed. He recognised Ron gently dozing in the chair next to it and with some consternation, realised that he was looking at himself lying unconscious within it. Of all the many things he had experienced in his short life, this definitely classed as the strangest, he thought.

‘Harry?’ he heard, the most beautiful sound in the world to his ears. He turned and saw Hermione sitting up in another bed, rubbing her eyes as she tried to move from sleep to wakefulness.

‘Harry?’ For her part, Hermione had woken up to find herself looking at a staircase so vast that it took her breath away. It was approaching slowly and she was so overwhelmed by it that it was some moments before she recognised the familiar form of Harry standing on the bottom step and even in her current, vulnerable, predicament, she found her intellect questioning what her senses were telling her. She tore her eyes from the vision and cast them over towards the still form of the Harry Potter that lay unconscious in a hospital bed, mere feet from where she lay. She turned back to the staircase and rubbed her eyes at the Harry Potter that stood before her. _Am I awake or is this merely a dream? Is this really happening or is this only happening inside my head?_

Then she remembered the words the Dumbledore’s portrait had uttered earlier; about how one did not necessarily preclude the other.

‘Harry is that really you?’ she asked and as if in a dream she received her answer as the Harry on the staircase leapt towards her and gathered her in an embrace so encompassing, she felt as if it would never end. She felt her last reserves finally give out as she allowed herself to be comforted in his embrace. All the stress, the worry and the heartache she had endured since the nightmare began was released as she held onto him as if her life depended on it. She had no idea how long they stood in each other’s arms before Harry finally released his grip somewhat and stepped back to look at her.

‘You’ve been called as a witness,’ he said gently. ‘As my witness,’ he added. She made to reply but a voice richer than any she had ever heard before spoke before she did.

‘You are in the High Court of the Other World; you have been called as a witness for the defence in the Appeal Hearing of Harry Potter. You are required to tell the court nothing but the truth. Do you understand what is required of you?’ added the Judge, not unkindly.

Hermione took a long moment before replying. ‘I think so, sir,’ she finally managed. ‘I understand that I must be truthful.’

The Judge smiled. ‘That will be sufficient, Miss Granger. These gentlemen here, I believe you already know,’ he added, indicating towards Lupin and Snape. ‘I suggest you answer their questions as truthfully as you can.’

It was at that moment Hermione nearly succumbed to the sheer strangeness of the moment and she reeled back in shock, saved from falling only by the steadying hold of Harry beside her. She looked upon two men she knew to be dead and after a few moments she also recognised Sirius and Dumbledore on the stairs standing next to a young couple that she instinctively knew, despite never having met them. The beautiful, red-haired lady she knew to be Harry’s mother bestowed a smile on her that was breath-taking in its sheer beauty and she realised without knowing how that she had passed at least one test already. She offered a tremulous smile in return and gripped Harry’s hand tightly before turning to face Snape.

‘Miss Granger,’ acknowledged Snape in his familiar drawl. ‘Please consider my questions carefully before replying,’ he continued. Hermione merely nodded. ‘How long have you known Potter?’ Snape finally asked.

Hermione took a moment before replying, knowing that Snape already knew the answer. ‘I’ve known _Harry_ for nearly seven years.’

‘And you have always been close to him?’

‘Yes.’ She sidled closer to Harry as she spoke and felt him grip her hand tighter.

‘You have always loved him?’

Hermione paused as she considered the question. ‘Near enough. I did not love him immediately, of course, but it was not long before I did.’

‘And you have always been in love with him?’ asked Snape, an eyebrow arched.

‘You know I have not,’ replied Hermione, a touch of asperity in her tone. ‘If I had always been in love with him, we would not be here, would we?’ she added.

‘You are in love with him now?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, turning quickly to see a broad smile on Harry’s face at her words.

Snape smirked. ‘So how long have you been in love with him? How long have you known?’

She whipped her head back around to face Snape. ‘Not long. I guess you could measure the time in hours rather than in days.’

‘So how can you possibly know that you are in love with Potter?’ sneered Snape. ‘You are but a child and you have a child’s delusions in such matters.’

‘I’m in love with Harry,’ she exclaimed defiantly. She could feel Harry struggling to restrain himself beside her.

‘Miss Granger,’ continued Snape in a more conciliatory tone, ‘I have always respected your logical and reasoned approach to problems. Where, pray, is your reason now?’

‘There is no reason in love,’ she responded softly.

Snape smiled sadly. ‘I will concede you that point, Miss Granger. However, I remain to be convinced. Can you prove that you love him?’

It was Hermione’s turn to smile sadly. ‘How can I prove such a thing? How does one prove how one feels?’

Snape nodded, satisfied. ‘It is as I thought, Your Honour. Miss Granger has provided the court with no new evidence. No further questions,’ he added, before turning and taking his place on the staircase. The Judge followed his progress before turning to Remus.

‘Your witness, Mr Lupin.’

Harry watched as Lupin nodded his acknowledgement and turned to face both he and Hermione, smiling broadly as he did so. He thought back to their hurried, whispered conference earlier in the court. Harry had thought it a great idea when Remus had suggested calling Hermione as a witness but he had no idea what his actual plan was. As Snape had just demonstrated, Hermione could offer no new evidence and it was with a feeling of trepidation that Harry watched his friend’s approach.

‘Hermione,’ began Remus with a smile. ‘Are you in love with Harry?’

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Hermione could not help but smile. ‘Yes,’ she replied simply. ‘But I don’t know how to prove it to you.’

‘Would you do anything for him?’ Remus asked.

‘Of course.’

‘Would you die for him?’

‘Yes!’

Too late, Harry saw where this was going. ‘Now wait a minute, Remus,’ he began.

‘Be quiet, Harry,’ interrupted Lupin. ‘Don’t say another word. Trust me,’ he added and there was a severity to his tone that Harry did not like at all. He bit his tongue as Lupin turned his attention back to Hermione.

‘So, would you be willing to take his place? Take his place here in the Other World so that he might live?’ he asked.

‘Yes!’ replied Hermione without hesitation.

‘Enough!’ yelled Harry, stepping between Hermione and Lupin. ‘What the hell do you think you are playing at, Remus? I wouldn’t have allowed you to call her if I knew you were going to pull this little stunt.’ He turned to Hermione. ‘Don’t listen to him. Don’t answer another question!’ he said, beseechingly.

Hermione shook her head, oblivious to the tears that started to run down her cheeks. ‘I have to tell the truth, Harry.’

‘Hermione?’ Interjected Lupin. ‘If you are willing to take Harry’s place then join me now on the staircase. Come!’

‘NO!’ roared Harry. ‘I forbid it!’

‘You have no power here, Mr Potter!’ exclaimed the Judge. ‘Do not say another word or I will hold you in contempt!’

‘Fine! Hold me in contempt! Do what you want! I will withdraw my appeal if I have to but you are not getting her! Take me back! I withdraw my appeal! You are nothing but a bunch of charlatans!’ He grabbed Hermione by the arm and pulled her round to face him. ‘Don’t do this. Please. I couldn’t live here without you,’ he implored.

‘ENOUGH!’ exclaimed the Judge. ‘You have gone too far, Mr Potter.’ He clicked his fingers and Harry found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move or speak. He could only watch helplessly as Hermione gently stroked his face, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

‘I’m sorry, Harry,’ she choked. ‘But it is better this way. You have more to live for; more to offer than I do.’ She leaned forward and with exquisite tenderness, kissed him on the lips as she wrestled her arm out of his grip. ‘Goodbye, my love. I’ll be waiting for you,’ she added before turning away and walking towards the staircase. Lupin put his arm around her shoulder and joined her on the bottom step before both turned to face Harry.

Who had never felt worse in his entire life. His heart was breaking as he watched helplessly as the staircase slowly started to rise. No matter how hard he strained, he could not break the ties that bound him in place and he wept openly as Hermione was lifted with agonising slowness out of his life. He closed his eyes as he saw her lift her hand in silent farewell, her tears flowing freely. He found himself wishing that Voldemort had killed him in the forest for the torture he was feeling right now was more than he could bear.

And then the applause began.

Harry thought that he had finally lost his mind; had finally become unhinged by events. Still unable to move, he opened his eyes and could see everyone on the staircase - save Hermione and Snape – clapping and cheering. He noticed that the staircase had stopped rising and was in fact returning to the ground. He took no comfort from the look of bewilderment on Hermione’s face that told him she was as perplexed as he. Finally, Snape’s voice broke through the applause.

‘Well, Your Honour. It seems that they are in love with one another after all,’ he said, a hint of disapproval in his tone.

‘Yes!’ exclaimed Lupin as he leapt down from the staircase and headed towards Harry. ‘Yes indeed! There can be no doubt, Your Honour. Both Mr Potter and Miss Granger have demonstrated this beyond doubt. They have fallen in love and as this occurred in the time erroneously granted to Mr Potter, he now has obligations to her that did not exist at the time he was supposed to die! The court must grant his appeal.’ He turned to face the Judge and Snape. ‘You both believe that nothing in the Other World is stronger than the Law. Well I believe that we have demonstrated here today that nothing on Earth is stronger than love. And I further contend that it is the love here on Earth that binds Mr Potter rather than the Law in the Other World. Miss Granger’s claim on him is greater than that of Death itself! The defence rests!’ he finally exclaimed.

The Judge considered him with a broad smile. ‘I am minded of some words of wisdom, written by one of the more celebrated inhabitants of our world.

_In peace, Love tunes the shepherd’s reed;_

_In war, he mounts the warrior’s steed;_

_In halls, in gay attire is seen;_

_In hamlets, dances on the green._

_Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,_

_And men below and saints above;_

_For love is heaven, and heaven is love._

Yes indeed, Mr Potter, Miss Granger. For love is heaven and heaven is love.’ He turned to Hermione. ‘You may go, my child. You may return to where you belong. Appeal granted.’ He clicked his fingers once again and Harry immediately felt his bonds release. Neither he nor Hermione needed to be told twice; he raced towards her and caught her as she leapt from the staircase into his arms. They stood locked in an embrace as the cheering began again. They remained like that for an interminable amount of time before finally breaking apart, both crying freely but for a different reason. They turned as the Judge had begun speaking again.

‘Celeste? I would have Mr Potter’s glass, if you please?’ he held out his hand as the little French recorder struggled with his cloak before finally pulling out an hourglass and handing it to the Judge. The latter examined it carefully before tapping it with his finger. A rush of sand could be heard filling the glass.

‘Mr Lupin? Mr Snape? Are we agreed on the new timeline for Mr Potter? Are we agreed on his new date? Is it acceptable to you both?’

‘Very generous, Your Honour!’ replied Lupin with a broad smile. ‘I find no fault.’

Snape peered at the glass. ‘Is that not a bit too much, Your Honour?’ he enquired. He looked up at the Judge whose benevolent expression had suddenly turned somewhat sterner at the question. Snape suddenly felt very isolated. ‘Yes! Yes; it’s fine!’ Snape hastily corrected. ‘I find no fault!’

With these words the staircase started to slowly rise and everyone on it turned to face the young couple left behind.

‘Goodbye, Harry! Goodbye Hermione!’ shouted Lily Potter. ‘We will see you again; never fear!’ she added, her hand raised in farewell.

‘Live and love, both of you!’ added James Potter as he too raised his arm in salute. Harry pulled Hermione in tight to his chest and they both raised their arms in farewell as they watched the staircase rising out of sight. Farewell to Lilly and James; Remus and Sirius; Dumbledore and Tonks. Even Snape, for that matter. All had died that he might live and it was a bittersweet moment for Harry as he realised that a chapter of his life was ending. The people he watched disappear into the heavens had shaped that chapter; had guided him and loved him and sustained him through it and it was with real sadness that he finally let them go as they disappeared from view.

When they had finally gone, he turned to the woman by his side. She too had sustained him; had guided him and loved him. She too was a part of the chapter that had just ended. But she was also the next chapter. She was the reason he had a next chapter and he felt his heart swell in his chest as he finally came to terms with himself. He was Harry Potter and he had a life to live. He pulled Hermione in close to his chest.

‘So, what now?’ he asked, gently.

Hermione leaned in and kissed him softly before looking up at his face, her eyes shining.

‘Now? Now we live. Now we love, Harry.’

He smiled broadly at her words and leaned in to seal their love with a kiss. In the moment before their lips met, it occurred to him that in the great matter of life and death, it was Hermione Granger who was all that mattered.


End file.
